


Eye for an Eye

by ccmoore



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-01-13 00:21:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 34,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21235019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccmoore/pseuds/ccmoore
Summary: Reeling from the pain and hurt of Bucky's abandonment, Piper Stewart ties to move on with her life as best as she can. But when another threat rears its ugly head, she is forced to once again be under the protection of the man she wants to hate.Sequel to "Bone of my Bone."





	1. Unexpected Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for hanging in there with me; life got a little busy. I generally like to have half (if not more) of a story written before I even start posting. I do plan to write more, but the first few updates may be slow in-between. 
> 
> Thanks for your support!

**Chapter 1 • Bucky | June 26, 7:47 p.m.**

I love D.C. in the winter. I love that there’s barely any snow. We do get a couple storms every season — four inches at the most. But coming from a place where snow would dump on us over and over, I’ll take it.

Summers, however, are a different story.

It’s usually always 80-85 degrees and humid, even when the sun goes down. And when there’s not a breeze, it’s suffocating. Case in point, right now.

I’ve lost count at the number of times I’ve wiped sweat off my forehead. But it’s not all due to the humidity. Part of it is stress — I just received a phone call from Wanda, one of Avenger Security’s newest agents, about a possible situation.

Involving Piper.

Maybe I should back up, to a couple of months ago.

It was a two-week whirlwind. I was hired to protect and figure out who was harassing Piper Stewart, but we ended up uncovering much more than a lovestruck stalker. Hydra — an underground society hell bent on total anarchy — was trying to take her out, effectively keeping her father from running for President. Somewhere between solving the case and protecting Piper, I fell in love. _We_ fell in love.

But then I ended it — with a hand grenade, for good measure.

Given the nature of my career and the enemies I’ve made over the years, there can never be a future with Piper. For her safety, I had to end it. Of course, I could have done a better job than just leaving, without so much as a goodbye.

Almost a month after I left the hospital, Piper graduated from Georgetown, Summa Cum Laude. She began working for her Dad full-time, helping with the marketing of his campaign. At the beginning of June, Mr. Stewart was nominated by his party as its presidential candidate, which meant more work and travel for Piper. But as of now, she was still in D.C.

I know all of this because she still wears her bracelet, which for some reason, gives me hope. And, also, because of Wanda. Just before Piper graduated, I got word that she was interviewing for a female secret service agent. I had Wanda go to the interview, prepping her on some of Piper’s hobbies and interests. It worked, because she was hired on the spot.

I know I shouldn’t have. But ever since the bombing and the information we found out after the fact, I’ve had a gut feeling Hydra is planning something else. I just want to make sure Piper isn’t involved.

Of course, that action put me in hot water at Avenger Security. Steve was furious when he found out I had Wanda infiltrate the Secret Service. In fact, he’s barely spoken to me, apart from some case updates. But I don’t care. I just want to make sure Piper is safe, until I know Hydra is done for good. Then I’ll be done.

But that day isn’t today.

After parking my SUV, I hopped out, running up to the restaurant in the heart of downtown D.C. Wanda was there to greet me.

“They’re in a private table to the left of the bar,” she briefed me.

I thanked her, adjusting my light weight jacket — and making sure I had all the equipment I may or may not need. I walked into the restaurant — a jazz song playing loud enough that I could easily slip in, break up the party, and get Piper out, without causing a scene. I spotted her in the far corner, my heartbeat slightly picking up. She looked beautiful. She had cut her hair — shoulder length, instead of it stopping in the middle of her back — and had on a navy colored dress. I watched as she politely smiled, nodding her head to the guy that was sitting opposite her. But knowing what Piper looks like when she’s happy, I knew it wasn’t a true smile. She was tolerating this guy at best.

Her date was wasted. Beyond wasted, actually. He was laughing loudly, waving his hands all around and swaying from side to side. Then, he was getting up, making his way to the crowded bar. Or rather, stumbling to the bar. That was my opportunity to get Piper out. I was just about to the booth when she looked up, noticing me. Her demeanor totally changed. Her smile left her face, which killed me. She then began looking around the restaurant, either for her date or a way out, I’m not sure.

I stopped in front of her booth, suddenly at a loss for words. _Seriously, you walk all that way and didn’t think of a thing?_ I yelled at myself. _Say something!_ “Your date is drunk.”

Piper’s eyes widened. “That’s what you came here to say?”

I didn’t justify myself, I only extended my hand to her. “Let’s go.”

She began to laugh. “No, you’re not my bodyguard.”

“Wanda called me, so I kind of am at the moment.”

“Wanda called you?” she snapped, her voice getting a bit louder, causing some looks from the closest tables. Why did I think this was going to be easy?

“Yes, now let’s go.”

“Oh, now I’m really not going anywhere with you — you’re crazy!”

“Piper —”

“_Don’t_.”

“Hey, was going on?” the guy slurred, beer in hand.

I straightened myself before turning to him. He was the same height as me, but had a slender build. One punch would send him to the ground, no problem. “Miss Stewart is leaving.”

“We’re not finished with our date.” God, he reeked of alcohol. Something tells me he was knocking them back, probably even before the date started.

I was about to open my mouth when Piper cut me off again. “Actually Nolan, I have to be leaving. It is getting late.”

“It’s not even eight.”

Piper gracefully slid out of the booth, quickly thanking _Nolan_ for the evening out. I put my hand on her back, between her shoulder blades, escorting her out. I probably didn’t even need to do so, but I got a thrill touching her, even if the fabric of her dress separated my hand from her smooth skin.

When we were outside, Piper whirled on me, her eyes angry slits. “Are you kidding me?”

I pulled out my phone and opened my file of _Nolan, _showing Piper. She snatched the phone from me and began to read. Nolan had arrests for two previous DUIs, a DWI and misdemeanor for assaulting a cop (related to one of the DUIs). But the real kicker was his arrest for battery on an ex-girlfriend.

Piper was silent as she read, handing me back my phone before speaking. “You ran a background check on my date?”

“You’re welcome.”

“Are you insane? Now who’s the stalker!”

“Listen, Wanda had some doubts about this guy. I was just following up.”

“Let’s talk about that — how do you know Wanda?” I barely opened my mouth before Piper had it figured out. “She works for you.” I nodded. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

Piper took off walking down the block. I quickly caught up with her and tried to pull her to me. “Piper, listen to me.”

“No! No!” she was shouting now. “You don’t get to touch me.”

“Get in the car, I’ll take you home.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you! You ghost me and then show back up, demanding me to go with you? Are you crazy?” She she shoved her hands against my chest, hard enough to make my breath hitch. “Get away from me.”

This was getting out of hand. People were starting to stare. There was the risk of someone recognizing her.

“Get in the car,” I repeated between clenched teeth. “Or I’ll put you in the car. Don’t make this any worse than it already is.”

She stared at me for a couple minutes, before taking in the scene around us. A handful of people were stopped, watching the exchange. Give it a few more seconds and someone would have their cellphone out to record the whole interaction.

Piper finally relented, but not before huffing a breath, walking to my SUV. I opened the passenger door for her, but she walked past it, opening the back door and hopping in. She then promptly shut it with a slam, because of course she did.

Fuck, she really knew how to test me. All I could do was calmly breathe in and breathe out, hoping that would keep my anger from getting the best of me. As soon as I got in the driver’s seat, Piper was chewing me out.

“I don’t hear a word from you and now you’re concerned who I date? What I’m doing?”

“As I told you, Wanda was concerned.”

“Then why didn’t _Wanda_ tell me about him, instead of calling _you_.”

The way she said “you” was a punch to the gut. But I deserved it. I turned down a couple streets before I could find the right answer. An answer that wouldn’t make her hopeful. “Because I told Wanda to keep me informed.”

“How great. You still have your thumb on me. Well, it goes the other way, too. How about keeping me informed, hm?” She paused from her rant, looking out the window. She was shaking her head. She didn’t speak until we got to her apartment’s garage. “I thought you were dead.”

I looked at her through the review mirror, expecting to see Piper’s heartbroken face. Instead, I just saw the back of her head, exiting the vehicle. I quickly undid my seatbelt and exited the vehicle, following her to the service elevator. I had to tell her the truth; she deserved that much.

“Piper!”

“Save it,” she replied, her eyes piercing into me just before the elevator doors closed.


	2. Classified

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the Bucky I am envisioning for the first part of the story: https://weheartit.com/entry/333517975

**Chapter 2 • Piper | June 26, 8:36 p.m. **

I don’t know when I’ve ever been so mad. I was shaking. Literally, shaking. I tried to compose myself in the elevator, but failed. As soon as I was in the apartment, Jason knew something was wrong. Jason’s been staying with me on and off — mostly on, partially since Dinah’s boyfriend moved in and partially because I still can’t be in the apartment alone.

“Date was a flop?”

“Big fucking flop, thanks to Bucky.”

Jason gasped. “Terminator was there?”

I told Jason about how he showed up, Nolan’s background check and how Wanda was here to keep feeding Bucky information. “I’m just so tired of being lied to. Who does that? Who does he think he is?”

“Sounds like he still cares about you,” Jason offered.

“Then he wouldn’t have left.” I couldn’t keep my voice from cracking. Thankfully, Jason totally understood. Tears threatened to escape my eyes, so I quickly pinched the bridge of my nose to keep them from doing so. “God, I can’t cry over him anymore.”

“It’s okay if you do. There’s no shame in that,” Jason rubbed my back, hugging me to him. Even though Jason’s been my sounding board for all the sadness, anger and confusion I have toward Bucky, I think he’s still hopeful. And for some sick, fucked up reason, I think I am, too.

“I’m going to bed, I have an early morning,” I mumbled a goodnight and went to my room, sleep eluding me for most of the night.

The next morning, I woke up an hour earlier than normal. I attempted to do some yoga, but just kept thinking about Bucky.

What nerve did he have to come back to me, after he willingly left? Granted, he kept me from making a huge mistake — Nolan was a bad dude. Can’t believe I didn’t see that coming. But still. How dare he.

But on the other hand, he wasn’t back in my life. He just showed up to warn me. He’s probably going to fade away again. Right?

I had to stop; the thoughts were just too much. I just need to be distracted. I decided to go into work early. I quickly dressed, put on makeup and grabbed a granola bar and quietly exited the apartment. Surprisingly, Wanda was waiting for me in the hallway.

“Hi,” I cooly greeted. May as well get this over with now, we do have a long day between us. “I was just heading into work early. You can come with, unless you need to get someone’s approval first?”

“I’m sorry, Piper,” Wanda spoke in her Russian-like accent. I knew she was from eastern Europe, but she never really specified where. That’s okay, it doesn’t matter. “You have to understand, I’m the newbie. I have my own orders to follow. If there’s something that makes me uncomfortable, I have a duty to report it.”

“Whose orders?”

Wanda hesitated, but told me what I already knew. “Sergeant Barnes’. I’m sorry I went behind your back. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about me, that I work for Avenger Security. I guess I thought I was protecting you, but now I see that all I did was hurt you.”

As far as apologies went, it was pretty good. “I guess I just felt like we were becoming friends.”

Wanda smiled her brilliant, wide smile. It was infectious, as always. “I think we are, too. And I promise, I will no longer be reporting to Sergeant Barnes. It’s just you and me."

I adjusted my bag across my body and walked toward Wanda. “Good, because I don’t have time to break in another security guard.” She chuckled, following me out of the apartment complex.

Like any other day, we headed to the White House. It took less than 20 minutes to get from my apartment to the White House, where I spent my day in my Dad’s office, going over campaign strategy, poll numbers and public comments. Although technically since my dad was out of town, I probably didn’t have to come in. But I most definitely needed the distraction.

I sat at his desk, looking over some new figures while Wanda talked with other agents. I could hear her talk to Paul, one of the agents that is usually stationed near my dad’s office. They seemed friendly and I couldn’t help but wonder if they had any interest in each other. As soon as the thought entered my head, I shook it out. It was none of my business. Besides, I didn’t like her butting into my personal life. I’m sure the same can be said for her.

I kept trying to look through files of old poll numbers, but was finding it increasingly difficult due to the mess that is my dad’s desk. No better time to clean, right? I was in the middle of organizing all the folders on the floor when Wanda walked in.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

I huffed out a breath. “I can’t begin to do what I need to do in this mess. So I’m organizing.”

She chuckled. “Here, let me help.”

After about half an hour of sorting folders, we started to put them in order in a nearby filing cabinet. In the small filing cabinet in his desk, I kept files of poll numbers and other pressing topics. While I was straightening and going through the drawer, a certain file caught my eye.

** _2004-2014 Hydra - CLASSIFIED_ **

I looked to Wanda, who was busying herself with organizing the other filing cabinet. I used her distraction to open the file, a small gasp coming from my mouth when I saw the photos in the file. Gruesome snapshots of bodies in horrifying positions and scenes. There were reports – some with blacked out lines and others without – detailing the events. I quickly shut the folder and looked back in the desk. There were more files, all in 10-year increments, going back to the 1930s. Why would my father have this?

I must have sad that out loud, because the next thing I knew, Wanda was by my side, with the folder in her hands. “These are classified documents,” she stated. “These should be with the FBI.”

I looked to her, questioning. “What do these mean?”

“I’m not sure, but it looks like these detail nearly every Hydra happening in almost one hundred years,” she closed the file, but kept her eyes on the stack of folders. “But I’m no expert.”

“Who is?” Wanda then looked at me, hesitating with her answer. “Bucky,” I replied for her.

“I think we should give these to him. He, Steve and Sam can dig into this more.”

I felt the familiar pang of fear bubble in my stomach. This was a bad idea. “I don’t know if we should give these to anyone else. I don’t want my dad to know we found out.”

“I can have these to the guys for copies and back in time before your father returns,” Wanda promised. “Piper, this is more than us. This is a threat to the world.”

I hesitated once more. “Well, when you say it like that.” 

No sooner than I spoke, Wanda had her phone out and she was calling Bucky. After hanging up, she left to alert security that he would be coming in via the back passage. I went back to busying myself with my dad’s desk, even distracting myself by sorting his thumbtacks and paperclips. But sadly, it did no use. I instantly knew when Bucky was in the room. My damn body betrayed me.

Thankfully, he wasn’t alone. Sam was with him. He happily greeted me, putting himself between me and Bucky. Fine by me.

I stayed at the desk while Wanda handed over the folders and spoke to the guys about them. I took advantage of the opportunity to sneak a look at Bucky. He looked like shit. He was clearly exhausted — he had dark circles under his eyes and a full on beard, instead of his usual scruff. Even his hair seemed lifeless - a dull brown, just hanging from his head. It was a few inches longer, touching his shoulders. I never even noticed last night, given my anger. I was still staring when Bucky looked up. I quickly looked away and went back to my paperclips. There were thirty-three of them.

Just as fast as they were here, the guys were off, promising to bring back the files in the morning. My dad would be back tomorrow night. “Plenty of time,” Sam assured me.

Wanda helped me finish straightening, which we did mostly in silence.

“H-how is Bucky?” I asked, immediately regretting it. I tried to cover myself. “He didn’t look so great, I mean.”

“I don’t think he gets much sleep these days.” She wiped her hands on her pants, attempting to get rid of any last remnants of dust. “I think he misses you.”

I shouldn’t have been angry at the answer, because I set myself up for it. But there I was, fighting back the urge to scream. “Then he shouldn’t have done what he did.”

“It’s not my place.” I gave her a look, which made her laugh. “After last night, I mean.” Wanda huffed out a breath. “Sergeant Barnes truly thinks he was protecting you. Keeping you from his worst fears. Maybe it was wrong. But we all make mistakes.”

I nodded my head. “Yeah, we do.”


	3. Day 1

**Chapter 3 • Bucky | June 28, 1:12 a.m.**

The amount of Hydra intel that Piper and Wanda found was staggering. There were a few blacked out pages and bits, but despite that, it was a pretty complete collection. Steve, Sam and even Tony helped me scan in all of the documents, finishing just after midnight. They were long gone, but I was still at my desk, looking over the files.

I couldn’t help but stare at the stapled packet labeled “2010.” I decided against opening it, already knowing what was in there.

While this information was great to have, it still didn’t give us who or where Hydra was. I had no new information. But, I did have an idea who might.

Early the next morning, I was walking down the long hallway — the same hallway Piper and I walked down a few months ago — to talk with Jasper. He was about to undergo trial for treason, attempted murder, kidnapping and a slew of other charges. He’ll be serving life, no doubt.

I sat across from Jasper, who just smirked. I wanted to punch him.

“How’s your cell?”

He smirk cracked into a smile. “Do you really care?”

“Not really.” I threw the folder of copies down — Sam had already taken the originals back to the White House. “We found these. We know all about Hydra’s past.”

The smirk remained. “You and all the good people at the FBI. That doesn’t stop Hydra from fulfilling its destiny.”

“We finally agree on something,” I relented. “So you’re going to tell me Hydra’s future.”

“Is that so?”

“Is Piper still a target?”

The smug bastard started to laugh. Really laugh. It was nearly a minute of straight laughing before Jasper answered the question. “She’s not the target. She never was the target.” I was about to ask what he meant by that, but was cut off. “You know, when I was told you were joining her security team, I admit, I was a bit worried about executing our plan. But once you saw Piper and made goo-goo eyes at each other, I knew we could still take her out. You are each other’s biggest weaknesses.”

I was out of my seat before I realized, taking Jasper’s head in my hand and throwing it down. The sound of his head smacking the metal table was so satisfying, blood running down from his nose. “You failed, clearly. She’s still alive.”

“For now.”

I whirled on him again, smacking his head forward before wrapping my metal hand around his neck. I could snap it just like _that_. “What do you mean?”

“I-It’s. Not. Over.” He choked out. My blood ran cold and a thin layer of sweat broke out. After a few more questions — and a few more head bashes — my interview with Jasper was done. I wasn’t getting any more information from him. And unfortunately, I couldn’t beat him to a pulp. Besides, Piper was still in danger. And I had to warn her.

I called Wanda, who told me she and Piper were already at the White House, since Mr. Stewart had gotten back a few hours earlier than expected. Perfect. I rolled up half an hour later, walking right into Mr. Stewart’s office. There was a meeting in process, but I didn’t care.

“Sir, I believe you’re in danger,” I blurted out as a way of a “hello.” All eyes were on me, including Piper’s. I tried to avoid hers, but I couldn’t. Her mouth was slightly agape, her eyes forming an unspoken question.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” Mr. Stewart snapped. “How did you get in here?”

He started calling for security to get me out when I revealed what Jasper just told me. “Sir, Pi — Miss Stewart — is still in danger.” Everyone stopped. I kept my eyes on Piper who was now standing from her seat, her breathing quickening. “I believe Hydra is using her to target you.”

There were a few moments of silence before Mr. Stewart sent everyone out of the room, expect for Piper, myself and another guy, Graham, who claimed he needed to be in on the know. Once it was just us there, the questions started. “You think Hydra is targeting me?”

“I do.”

“And just how do you know that?”

Before I could answer with a lie I was prepared to give, Piper interrupted me. “I found the files in your desk, Dad. I gave them to Bucky.”

“You what?” He whirled, standing to face her. “You gave classified information to this man?”

“Why do you have them?” she said in place of an answer.

Mr. Stewart went off on a tirade, shouting about how he was the Vice-President and he would have whatever he wanted in his desk. It was an ugly match, but Piper held her own, never needing any assistance from me. Once it quieted down, Mr. Stewart sat back in his chair and somberly spoke.

“The FBI has had records of Hydra for years — since the bureau was founded. Given the recent _issues_, I got my hands on all of those files. I was just starting to look through it.”

“What are you looking for?” Piper asked.

Mr. Stewart just shook his head. It’s as if they were both oblivious to the fact that I was in the room with them. “I don’t know, really. Maybe I thought I could get a clue. Discover why they are doing what they’re doing?”

“And you’ve found nothing.” I answered for him. Mr. Stewart nodded before taking off his glasses and rubbing his face. “Hydra is going to do something big. Something to keep you from becoming President. And I have a feeling they’re using Piper to do that.”

“And how do you know that?” Piper snapped.

“Because I was just with Jasper, who let it slip.” Piper didn’t react, she just simply sat back in her seat and looked at the floor. “I believe their attempts to derail you as becoming President is just one of the ways they will execute their plan of total anarchy.”

I detailed how Hydra agents are everywhere and able to blend in anywhere. They’re anywhere from international corporations, which are legitimate businesses that are fronts to conceal illicit activities; government agencies, which we’ve already found out; and formed in various criminal groups around the world, the mob being the most well known front. Piper and Mr. Stewart were silent while they took all the information in.

“You seem to know a lot about Hydra,” the other guy in room finally spoke, almost in an accusing sort of way. He was an older man, a few inches shorter than me, not really fat, but not really thin. He had a look about him that reeked of arrogance. I didn’t trust him.

“I lost my arm because of Hydra. And I was tortured by Hydra.” Piper, her Dad and Graham were silent, absorbing the bombshell I just dropped. “So yeah, you can say I know a lot about them."

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are,” Graham asked, his shrill arrogance piercing through the thick silence.

“This is Sergeant Barnes, Piper’s bodyguard,” Mr. Stewart introduced me with a wave of his hand.

“_Ex_-bodyguard,” Piper quickly corrected.

“Not anymore. Not until this is figured out.”

“What?” both Piper and I spoke in unison.

“Dad, you can’t be serious,” she snapped.

Mr. Stewart didn’t relent. “If what Sergeant Barnes is saying is true, we need the protection. There’s no better person for the job.”

“I won’t let you down, Sir.” I responded, cutting Piper off from another outburst.

Mr. Stewart held my stare before going back to his paperwork; it was an unspoken agreement of some sort. Keep my daughter from harm, but stay the hell away from her.

“Do I get a say in this?” Piper shouted. “Is anyone listening to me?”

“Wanda will still call all the shots,” I offered, trying to reach some agreement. “I’m just here for backup. And to get more intel on Hydra.”

Mr. Stewart, who looked up during my offer, nodded. “That sounds good. Piper?”

“Like it fucking matters,” she mumbled, shooting me a murderous glare before going back to her own papers.


	4. Days 5 & 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally have a clear direction! Here's to more consistent updates, hopefully!   
Thanks for reading!

**Chapter 4 • Piper | July 2, 10:15 a.m.**

It wasn’t even a full week since Bucky was re-hired and he was already the dutiful bodyguard. He was always there: in the same room, whispering into his earpiece, or walking a few paces behind, always watching. He was true to his word, however, letting Wanda take the lead. But it didn’t matter. All I could focus on was Bucky.

I would catch him talking to Wanda, a low voice between the two. It reminded me of our time in the safe house, just the two of us, whispering under the sheets. Every once in a while, I would catch him pushing his hair back, making me wish I was running my fingers through his hair. And don’t get my started on his cologne.

But mostly, it was just his presence. Being near him still gave me those damn butterflies. And god damn it, as much as I hate to admit it, I _do_ feel a safer with him here.

I also couldn’t stop thinking about the bombshell Bucky dropped on us: how Hydra had tortured him. He’d shared with me a bit about his military background, but never that. Then again, why would he? What sane person would want to remember that? I can’t believe what all he’s been through.

I shifted in my seat in my own little desk, just a few feet away from my dad. My dad had it brought in from storage the day after I accepted the job. Graham loved to tease me about it. Dickwad. Any ways, back to work. I can’t spend my time and energy focusing on Bucky. I have more important things to do — like finish researching for Dad’s first debate tomorrow night.

The first debate would take place right here in D.C. tomorrow night. All of us were on edge with nerves. Well, all of us but Graham. Dad was especially nervous, since he is running against one of his oldest friends: Senator Warren Hanks. “Hanks,” as I’ve always known him, and my dad served as senators together and, more recently, Hanks as ambassador to England, so my Dad and he continued to work closely together. Publicly, both stated they remain committed to supporting each other no matter what. But there’s most definitely an unspoken feeling that their friendship will be changed. How could it not?

I was in the middle of finding comments and reactions to a couple of Hanks’ proposal points when Graham barged in — okay, the door was open, but whatever — listing off demands.

“Isn’t there another intern you can bug?” I said in place of a greeting.

“I need you to run new poll numbers now, tomorrow morning and the second after the debate,” he rambled. “You also need to take your Vice-President Stewart’s introduction speech to the news studio so they can get it in the prompter ahead of time.”

“Graham, I’ve already told you that shouldn’t be done until a couple hours before. We don’t want it leaked,” I reminded him. Seriously, this guy.

His pointed face contorted, making him look even more pinched. “I believe you’re supposed to do as_ I_ say.”

“And I always do, but this time, I’m working on something for my _dad_,” I shot, turning back to my laptop. Thankfully it shut Graham up and got him out of the room, but not without huffing a dramatic breath. Diva.

I had enough self control to keep from calling Graham a name, but Bucky knew me well enough, so he did it for me. “What an asshat.”

“Be nice, it’s all he has going for him,” I mumbled. Bucky chuckled, which made a small smile appear on my face. I quickly got rid of it. _No, Piper. You’re mad at him. Remember?!_

We were silent for a few minutes before Bucky spoke up. “So, what are you working on?”

I closed my eyes and huffed out a breath, still unable to look at him. “Are we really doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Making small talk? Like we’re old friends?”

“Jesus, Piper,” he snapped. “All I’m trying to do it talk to you.”

I whirled on him. Was this really coming out of his mouth? “Now you want to talk? Not months ago? After you ran away?”

“If you let me explain —”

“No! I don’t care what excuse you have.” My voice had increased in volume, but Bucky stayed stoic, unchanging. His steely gaze just stayed on me, weathering through the storm that was my anger. It infuriated me.

“I’m sorry,” he finally broke the silence that settled upon us, his tone firm. It’s like he was stating a fact, not apologizing. He got up from the loveseat in the corner and walked towards me, stopping a couple feet from me. I remained in my chair. “It was an awful thing I did and I’m sorry. I should have talked to you. But what’s done is done.”

“‘What’s done is done?’ So that’s it? I’m just supposed to be cool with it?”

Bucky shrugged. “All I can do is tell you my reasons. And hope you forgive me one day.”

I could have laughed. “That’s the thing, you haven’t really explained your reasons.” I got up from my chair, keeping my eyes cast upwards to the ceiling, because I was afraid to look at him while I brought up our last conversation. “Y-you called yourself a monster. You said you were scared about never coming back.” Silence. I decided to be brave and look at Bucky. “Is it because of Hydra?”

There was a flash of emotion in his eyes. Sadness? Fear? Or maybe hurt. But before I could fully determine what it was, his stoic look was back. “I’m not discussing that.”

“Bucky.” Now I was the one pleading.

“Enough,” he snapped. Obviously it was a sensitive subject.

I didn’t get the chance to press him, like he did to me. Wanda walked in the room, stopping short when she saw our positions, the mood of the room tense and angry. “Is everything okay here? Bucky replied with a quick “yes” and I returned to my desk. “Sergeant Barnes, it’s been asked that you assist security with a sweep of the auditorium. For tomorrow’s debate?”

“Sure thing,” he replied. He walked out the door, the corner of my eye catching him glance at me before he was fully out of sight. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Wanda asked once again. I attempted my best smile and gave a nod, returning to my work.

The next evening, I was in the auditorium at my now alma mater — George Washington University — for the first (of many) Presidential debates. Dad was running through some last minute facts and figures with Graham and another campaign staffer. I was more or less there for moral support.

“Well I guess it’s now or never,” a loud voice boomed over the hustle of backstage. We all turned to see where it was coming from, but already knew its owner: Senator Hanks. I smiled as my dad shook hands with Hanks. They both had a tough, brave front on.

“Piper, honey, good to see you,” he enveloped me in a hug, squeezing my shoulders a little too tight. He pulled out of the hug, but kept his hands on my arms. “I’ve been so worried about you. Everything that’s happened.”

“Thanks, Hanks. It’s been…something.”

“If you ever need anything —”

“It’s fine, really. I’m in good hands.” I glanced over at Bucky who was watching the whole interaction from the back of the room. Like the creeper he is. I watched as Hanks touched my hands with his — noting his massive diamond ring he wears, toting his time as an NCCA football champion for Auburn — before walking over to the stage.

“Shall we do this, my friend?” Hanks asked.

The two waited by the side of the stage as their names were called: my dad first, then Hanks. Both received a rousing round of applause and then the questions began. I nervously crossed my hands over my chest, rocking back and forth on my feet. It took me a few minutes to even realize that I was flanked by Wanda and Bucky. We remained standing there in a somewhat comfortable silence until Dickwad Graham came over to us.

“He’s not hitting the points we talked about. Are you sure you gave him the points?” he snapped.

“Yes, Graham.” I snapped back. “It’s the first debate, give him time.”

“If we don’t win this debate, we may as well lose the entire race.”

“Lighten up, man.” Bucky piped in.

Graham scoffed, rolling his eyes at Bucky. “If you’re going to be _joining_ us on more of these types of events, perhaps you want to look the part.”

Graham walked away — not before he heard me yelling a big ‘Fuck you!’ — leaving us three in the shadows, once again. I tried to focus on the debate, but snuck a peek over at Bucky, who was looking down at his appearance. He was wearing the black pants he often wore when protecting me months ago, a black shirt and his black leather jacket. His hair — a bit neater than what it was days ago — was tucked behind his ears. He looked fine, like he was trying to blend in.

“Don’t listen to him,” I offered. I couldn’t suppress the need to comfort Bucky and I don’t know why. Probably because Graham always feels the need to put someone down to make him look better, and I’m getting fucking sick of it. “Graham’s an asshole. And he likes to hurt others.”

I walked away before I could hear his response.


	5. Day 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's time for some dRaMa!

**Chapter 5 • Piper | July 4, 7:32 p.m.**

Normally, July 4 is spent with a bunch of friends in my apartment, catching up and sharing gossip, followed by drinking and firework viewing on the patio. There’s no better view of them anywhere in the city. This year, however, plans had to be changed.

After the debate, we — read, Graham — felt it may “behoove” us to hold a small (large) rally to bolster support for my dad. (Seriously, who the fuck says behoove?) It’s not that Dad was awful in the debate. He was great! But, he wasn’t stellar. But neither was Hanks. Truthfully, both candidates lacked “firm stances” and “proactive measures to see us through in the coming years,” according to the Washington Post. Fucktards.

While Dad was pretty pleased with the first debate, he still saw value in Graham’s idea. We spread the word on social media and were rewarded with three hundred or so rally attendees at Meridian Hill Park. Bucky and Wanda, who were already on edge given the recent threatening information, called in extra security, just to be safe. We were joined by Natasha and another agent named Clint, who preferred to have a birds eye view.

Dinah also joined us for the rally, largely because we’ve always spent the Fourth together for as long as I can remember. She was decked out in red, white and blue — face paint, beads, temporary hair dye — while I was more reserved, white pants and a blue tank top with red stars. Dad was festive with a blue blazer and a slightly larger American flag lapel pin. Crazy man.

“Thanks again for coming with me,” I nudged Dinah with my shoulder, receiving a smile in return. “It means a lot that you’re here.”

“Your Dad is the perfect guy for the job,” she answered. “We all know it. Soon everyone will, too.” She bumped me back. “But we’re still drinking after this, right?”

I chuckled. “Yes, Dinah.”

We both stopped talking as Graham made his way to the podium. I hated to admit it, but I was slightly pissed that Graham was the one to introduce my dad. Ever since he was governor, I would be the one to announce him. It was cute and the media ate it up. But truthfully, I’m his biggest cheerleader; so it’s fitting that I be the one to announce him.

I shook my head of the thought. This was Graham’s show. Besides, he knew all the right words to say. I’m better off to sit back with Dinah, taking it all in.

The crowd was spectacular. They were so receptive and engaged, boisterously clapping throughout Dad’s speech, cheering him on when he delivered his points. I made a point to scan the crowd, taking in the diverse makeup — children, teenagers, middle aged and elderly, women and men of all colors and backgrounds. It was great to see such a turnout, especially on a big holiday for the nation’s capitol. I was still scanning the crowd when my eyes stopped on Bucky.

He was across the way, under a tree. Even though he was wearing sunglasses, I knew his eyes were busy surveying the crowd. He was once again dressed in all black, making me sweat a bit more. As the afternoon progressed, it was starting to warm up. I can’t imagine he was comfortable. But he did look rather good…I quickly looked away before I was caught, instead focusing on the last part of my dad’s speech.

Dad concluded to the rousing sound of applause. People were whistling and cheering; the ones closest to the podium reaching out to shake my dad’s hands. I was interrupted from watching Dad take a selfie with a young boy with a firm hand on my shoulder. I jumped, but quickly recovered.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to frighten you!” the older woman said. Truly, she didn’t. Just given everything that’s happened to me, I’m a bit jumpier than normal. “I just wanted to say how much I have loved watching you grow up.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you,” I replied in what I hoped was my most sincerest voice.

The woman went on, talking about my past like she was there for every minute of it. Which given how public my life has been, she probably was. Another lady soon joined her, asking me questions about my kidnapping and what I thought of Jasper’s first arraignment. Before I knew it, the small crowd had grown to nearly a dozen people, all prying. It felt like a hundred.

That’s when the panic attack started.

It’s like I was backed up against a wall, metaphorically speaking. I was hot and voiceless. I just wanted to scream, but nothing was coming out. My knees were about to buckle when I felt a strong hand on my right hip and another hand on my left shoulder.

Bucky.

He pressed his body against mine, knowing that I was probably going to pass out any minute. I leaned in to him, already feeling relief knowing I had someone to lean on, both figuratively and literally.

“I’m so sorry, but Miss Stewart needs to leave now,” he informed the crowd. His tone was clipped, basically dismissing the crowd. There was a audible moaning amongst the people, but it was drowned out by the buzzing in my head.

Bucky’s metal hand shifted, resting on my other hip, turning me from the crowd and guiding me to where our waiting SUV was. “Are you okay?” He had to repeat it a few times before I fully realized what he said.

“I thought I was going to pass out,” I answered. “It’s like a panic attack or something.”

“You been having a lot of those?” Bucky asked, his eyes flashing a look of worry. His hand was now pressed against my back, guiding me up the hill to the vehicle.

Before I could respond, Dinah was in front of me. “Where’d you go? I look over and you were gone.”

“Um, nowhere, I was just talking to some potential voters. That’s all.”

I don’t know why I lied to my friend. She would have understood. Or maybe it’s because I was a little embarrassed, for whatever reason.

“We’re heading to The Orange for drinks,” Dinah declared, hopping in the back of the SUV. The Orange was one of our favorite places; we always sat on the upstairs deck. It was loud, exciting and exactly what I didn’t want at this present moment.

“Sounds good,” I said, sliding into the seat next to her. Once I was in and the door was shut, I realized Bucky had been holding my hand, the sudden loss of warmth and comfort prevalent. I don’t know when he slipped his hand into mine — right after my panic attack or as we were walking up the hill. The only thing I did notice was the craving I had to hold it once again.

The Orange is on the outskirts of D.C. proper, which was fine with me. The parade route finished near the bar, so the streets were still blocked off, but there were still a lot of people in the vicinity. Jason and a couple of other friends were already upstairs at a table when we arrived, already on their second drinks. Dinah and I joined them while Wanda and Bucky stood to the back of the restaurant scoping it out.

“So I see you couldn’t shake your flunkies,” Meredith (whose more Dinah’s friend than mine if we’re being totally honest) said.

Normally I would have joined in on the ribbing, but not now. Not after everything I’ve been through…not after everything Bucky had done for me.

“They’re here for my protection,” I shot back. “They’re not _sitting _with us.” Meredith sensed my tone and dropped the subject.

We talked a little about the Rally before Dinah changed the conversation to her boyfriend. Damon was the current flavor of the month. He was a DJ (ugh) by night and a promoter during the day (double ugh). I tried my best to be interested, but I just couldn’t. Every so often I would glance over at Bucky. Sometimes our eyes would catch each other, other times he was busy scanning the crowd. He seemed on edge, and I don’t know if it was from my emotions earlier.

“Pipe, want to help me bring back drinks from the bar? Our waitress seems to be stretched a little thin,” Jason asked. I quickly agreed and followed him to the small bar across the way. There were only two waitresses working the roof, which was now at maximum capacity, so they were running around like crazy.

We put in our drink order, with Jason raising an eyebrow at my choice of a peach ice tea. “I don’t feel like drinking right now,” I told him.

“Want to talk about it?”

I may not have known Jason as long as I have Dinah, but we’ve always had an instant connection. I truly can tell him anything without judgement or concern. “I had a panic attack earlier, after the rally. I guess I’m just a little on edge.”

He nodded, understanding. “Does Bucky reappearing have anything to do with that, too?”

I shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.” I glanced over at him, my blood pressure spiking when I saw some skinny red head talking to him, twirling her hair around her stupid finger. He had a smile on his face, but I knew he was just being polite. At least, I hoped he was. “He helped me through it.”

Jason followed my stare. “Are you —”

“No.” I finished for him. “I still can’t forgive him.”

“Do you honestly think he did it to hurt you? He really seems to care about you, even after everything that happened. I mean, why else would he come back?”

Jason had a point. Bucky would never be the type to keep popping up, making me relive my grief over and over.

“From an outsiders perspective,” Jason paused, biting his lip from finishing the sentence.

“What?”

“You’re not going to want to hear this.”

“Jase, tell me!”

Jason huffed out a breath. “I think you just need to bang him.”

“Jason!”

“There’s a reason hate fucking is a thing,” he told me, as-a-matter-of-factly. “You get all that frustration out — get some dopamine — and get on with your life.”

Our drinks were handed to us, stopping the conversation then and there. Thank GOD. We took them back to the table, where Dinah was still talking. Instead, I thought about Jase’s suggestion. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. So why was I still entertaining the notion?

Soon the conversation shifted to Jason’s upcoming tour. I listened intently, not being able to contain my pride. He would leave for a drag tour around the East Coast in a week, but would be done a week before the election.

“I still feel awful I couldn’t make you more clothes,” I lamely said.

He waved his finger at me. “Honey, you’re crazy busy running a campaign! And you altering what I have helped me out tons!”

The conversation drifted in and out, but remained light and fun, that is, until Dinah started knocking back shots. Then the party quickly fizzled.

“I’m not ready to go home,” she complained as I lifted her from the table.

“We’re going to my place,” I snapped. Truly, I just wanted to go home and go to bed, even though it was only 7:30. I struggled getting her up and moving, but had better success once Bucky was on her other side. A few people were now staring, so we hurried out of there.

Flanked by Jason and Wanda, we all left The Orange and cut through the side alley. Dinah decided she was fine to walk, unwrapping her arm from my neck, and practically pushing Bucky to the ground. I was about to comment when I flinched, a loud popping sound coming from behind us. Fucking fireworks.

I turned to see what asshole was popping them off in the street when my face froze in horror. There was a large red stain forming across Wanda’s white shirt. From there, everything happened in slow motion. Wanda pushed Jason to the side before she collapsed, while Bucky also rushed Dinah to the side — causing her to hit against the brick wall, followed by the ground — before covering my body with his and pressing us against a nearby dumpster.

The popping continued, more muffled than before. I felt Bucky’s hot breath against my ear. He was barking out orders, but I was completely unaware if he was even speaking to me. All I could do was watch the blood spill from Wanda as the gunshots continued to ring in the air.


	6. Day 7 (Still)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow...10 days later. Sorry!!

**Chapter 6 • Bucky | July 4, 7:45 p.m.** ****

“I need back up, _now_,” I snapped into my phone as soon as Steve picked up, rattling off the intersections we were located at.

“Wanda?”

“Has been hit,” I finished, swallowing back bile. I suddenly felt awful that I put her in this position. “Looks to be in her shoulder, not fatal. I think there may only be one shooter, but not possible. I can’t risk blowing our cover to get to our ride.”

“Sam and I are on the way. I’ll call Clint and Natasha on the way. Four minutes.”

We hung up. Now all we had to do was wait for four minutes. That may as well have been four hours.

I focused my attention to Piper, who was trembling in my arms. I glanced back over at Wanda, noting she and Jason were mirroring us: sheltered by a dumpster across the alley. Wanda, who was pressing her hand to her shoulder, nodded, letting me know she was alright. And for all circumstances, Jason was holding his own just fine.

I glanced around the dumpster, but was immediately pushed back into hiding from a couple shots. I still couldn’t tell if it was from one single shooter or multiple. They weren’t particularly loud; my guess is that the shooter was using some sort of silencer, yet an automatic something. _Fuck._

Suddenly_, _I remembered a move Natasha’s a fan of. I took out my phone, using it as a mirror to survey my surroundings. I saw just one person on the roof of the apartment complex, due south. Whoever it was had obviously been watching us, waiting for this opportunity.

I turned back to Piper, amazed at her control. She wasn’t talking or even screaming, just breathing heavy. Another panic attack. Dinah, on the other hand, was screaming her head off. It was going to only bring us more attention.

“You need to stop screaming,” I told her as calmly as I could, not taking my eyes off the back of Piper’s head.

“We’re being shot at!” she slurred, her voice shrill.“And you tell me to calm down?”

“You’re only going to attract more attention to us,” I snapped back.

“Piper!” she screamed. I was unsure whether it was actual concern for her friend or simply wanting her to settle our argument.

Piper turned her head, giving me a decent view of her face. Her eyes were closed and mouth was parted, trying to get as many deep breaths as possible. “Dinah, shut up.”

That did the trick. I was able to swallow my laugh, but couldn’t keep the smirk from appearing on my face.

“Back up is on the way,” I mumbled to Piper. She nodded her head, letting me know she understood. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t know. My ankle is throbbing.”

I looked down and saw her left ankle was starting to swell. “It’s a little swollen.”

“Better than being shot,” she responded. “Can I sit?”

I loosened my arms from around her body, letting her maneuver herself so she was sitting on the ground, back pressed against the dumpster. Her eyes were a little glossy and cheeks a bit pink, but other than that she was perfect.

“Thanks for being here,” she said, her gorgeous jade eyes piercing mine.

I felt a shiver down my spine and a pain in my heart. Before I could stop myself, the words left my lips: “I could never be anywhere else.”

Before either one of us could say anything else, I heard the sound of screeching tires coming from behind us. I glanced over my shoulder, relief filling my bones as I realized it was Steve and Sam. They pulled up right behind us and opened the doors. Unfortunately, the shooting started back up again.

I knew Steve was the first one out, only because of his red, white and blue shield covering his body. He quickly swooped down, easily picking up Dinah with one arm and — rather roughly — depositing her in the back. He was then on the other side of the open driver’s side door, waiting for a break in the gunfire. I glanced over to Sam’s side, noticing he had already secured Wanda and Jason.

“We need to get you up, we may only have seconds,” I told Piper, pulling her into a crouching position. She winced when putting pressure on her ankle, but didn’t make a sound. I then made eye contact with Steve. “When we get a break, I’ll cover and you take her.”

We had our break a few seconds later. I pressed myself to Piper, shielding her the seven steps it took for us to reach Steve. He took over from there, covering her and him with his shield. He helped her into the back, then turned to me. “Let’s go.”

I answered by digging out my gun from its holster. “I’m ending this.”

“Buck, leave it to Natasha and Clint. They’re in transit.”

“It’ll be too late by then.”

Steve huffed out a breath, realizing he couldn’t talk me out of it. “Well here, you may as well take this.” He tossed over the shield and I caught it with my metal hand. Then he was in the vehicle, backing out of the ally with another screech.

I took a couple deep breaths, gathering my thoughts and forming a plan. With the shield, I should be able to get across the street and out of view from the shooter. And like Sam and I did with the overpass, get to the roof and take out the shooter. But I had to be careful — apart from my vest, I didn’t have any extra protection. Hopefully the shield would do its job.

I gave myself to the count of three, then abandoned my spot, running across the street. Since the shield obstructed my view, I ran blind to the building. But I never heard anything — no gunshots, no bullets ricocheting from the shield. Just distant city sounds.

I easily found my way into the building, running up the seven flights of stairs, pausing at the door that read “roof access.” I tightened my grip on the shield before kicking the door open, surveying my surroundings. Nothing. There was no one, not even a sign of life.

Or so I thought.

One second I was looking over the edge of the building, seeing the alley from the same vantage point as the shooter. The next second, I was on the ground after getting hit in the back of the head. The shield flew out of my hand, as did my gun. My assailant was on me, the blows directed to my neck and face. They weren’t necessarily hard hits, but they were delivered in rapid succession. But soon enough, my instincts took over.

My feet raised up, kicking my assailant back and away from me. The blow was enough of a distraction for me to get up and on my feet before he retaliated with another blow to the face. I responded with one of my own — this one made of metal. It was enough force to send the attacker to the ground, knocking him — or her — out.

I caught my breath and took in the shooter. It was a male, maybe my age or younger. He already had a welt forming on his forehead from my blow.

“What are you doing, man?”

I searched his body for any other weapons or identity, but found nothing, other than his long range rifle he was shooting with. It was then I realized that the roof was littered with casings. I was confused if they were all from him or if there was another shooter.

The distraction was all the other guy needed. He was soon back on his feet, this time armed with a knife in his right hand. Damn it, missed that when I searched him.

But before I could defend myself — or even brace for the swipe of the blade — the man hesitated, his face in shock. I followed his head as he looked down, both of us taking in the arrow that was now in his chest, smack dab through his heart. The shooter then dropped to his knees and fell forward, dead.

I turned around, finding Clint on the building kitty corner from me. He waved, and no doubt, had a smug smirk on his face. I flicked my hand back, before turning around to the mess behind me.

What the hell am I going to do now?


	7. Day 7 (still)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!

**Chapter 7 • Bucky | July 4, 10:32 p.m.**

With the few hours of light we had left, Clint, Natasha and I made quick work of documenting and cleaning up the scene, as well as alerting the FBI and Secret Service of the situation. We tried to keep it as quiet as possible, but I had my doubts about that. Natasha was also taking the proverbial bullet for me, calling Mr. Stewart to fill him in on the details. I owed her.

After we were done, Clint dropped me off at the hospital on his way back to Avenger Security. Sam had been keeping me in the loop with updates.

Wanda took a direct hit in the shoulder, tearing some muscle. It was a clean hit, so it didn’t do too much damage, but she did require surgery. She would also need some intense physical therapy, grounding her for a while.

Dinah had broken her arm in the fall. Of all the problems the hospital staff had to deal with Dinah was the worst, according to Sam, purely because of her attitude and alcohol intake. They couldn’t give her any painkillers until her blood alcohol content came down to a manageable level. (That would probably be a while.) She would also be staying overnight, just to make sure she didn’t have any reactions when she did get some drugs. And she wasn’t happy about any of it.

Piper did twist her ankle, but refused treatment, settling for an icepack. Jason was the only one who made it without a scrape.

After identifying myself, I was taken to the top floor, where the group was being discreetly housed. It was used for a lot of politicians and foreign dignitaries, when they wanted their trips to the hospital to stay out of the press.

I could hear Dinah as soon as I stepped off the elevator, which opened right into a waiting room. Sam and Jason were sitting there waiting, exchanging looks over the drama.

“Looks like you missed a couple blocks,” Sam said as a greeting, nodding to my face. I hadn’t looked at it recently, but I already felt a shiner coming.

“We need to talk.”

Sam took me to Wanda’s room, where Steve was sitting in a chair opposite from an empty bed. I was about to ask where she was, when Steve answered for me. “She’s still in surgery.”

I felt two inches tall. This was all my fault.

“Hydra,” I started. “They’re behind this.” I detailed what happened on the roof, as well as our post-shooting efforts.

“So Miss Stewart is still the target,” Steve said after sometime.

“She’s not the target. But she’s the bait,” I corrected, recalling my conversation with Jasper a few days ago.

“If they keep coming out like cockroaches, we’re never going to be able stop them,” Sam said, sounding more defeated than I’ve ever heard.

“We need to find out who is behind this and expose them,” I offered. “Get rid of the guys at the top, the whole organization crumbles.”

“How exactly do we do that?”

“We start looking into everyone that knows the Stewarts.”

“Buck, that’s literally millions upon millions of people. He’s running for President, for God’s sake,” Sam shook his head.

“You got a better idea?” I shot back. Even if it took months — years — if it was a way to keep Piper safe, I would do it. “We have to start somewhere.”

“Let’s narrow our scope a bit,” Steve offered. “Every time we’ve been attacked, it’s at an event or when we’re in transit.”

“So we should keep Miss Stewart in house arrest?” Sam offered. I smirked, knowing she would never go for that. Besides, she needed to be out in the public for the sake of her father’s campaign.

“Not at all,” Steve also chuckled. Even he saw her as strong willed. “There’s obviously a mole somewhere. Someone who knows her schedule and her whereabouts. We find that person and it’s a start.”

Speaking of strong will, there was a scream that reverberated through the entire floor. I was about to take off, looking for the source, when Sam covered my arm with his hand. “That’s Dinah. They probably just told her to lay off the alcohol for two weeks.”

All three of us shared a chuckle at that. It then dawned upon me that I hadn’t yet seen Piper. “I should probably take Jason and Piper home,” I offered. Steve and Sam shared a look before telling me goodbye. The two were planning on taking shifts until Dinah was discharged and Wanda could be moved to our in-house facility at Avenger Security. From there, Tony and Bruce would monitor her.

I begrudgingly made my way to Dinah’s room, but stopped in my tracks when I saw Piper in the empty room next door to where I just was. I took in her appearance: dressed in red, white and blue — ready for a party that was rudely crashed — and looking out the window while sitting in a plush chair, her foot propped up a matching ottoman. She didn’t even look at me when she spoke.

“So I’m bait?”

I suddenly felt awful about the term I used. “I think you’re being used to get to your dad, yes.” She was silent, unmoving. I walked into the room, but kept a few feet between us.

“I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

There was so much I wasn’t telling her. But I didn’t want her to be burdened with the knowledge of Hydra. “How much did you read in those Hydra files?”

“Not a lot.”

I was suddenly aware that anyone could be eavesdropping, so I closed the distance between us, settling for the side table as a seat. “Hydra is hell bent on destroying our democracy. Your father is the last defense in that happening.”

I decided to be open with her, telling her in detail about that day Sam and I dealt with the Hydra agents on the roof, right after we were attacked on the interstate. She took it all in, silently, stoic.

“They’re ruthless. And nothing will stop them from seeing their mission through.” I wish she would look at me. “I’m — we’re — doing everything to keep that from happening.”

“It’s never going to stop.” Piper finally turned and looked at me, her mouth dropping as her eyes made contact with me. “What happened to your face?”

“It’s that bad, huh?” I gently touched my left eye, were the pain felt the worse. I winced when my fingers made contact with a huge knot.

“I think you need this more than I do,” she gave a small smile, handing over the ice pack from her ankle. I accepted, pressing it to my face. It wasn’t as cold as it probably had been, but its coolness still felt great.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

I helped Piper up from the chair, secretly loving the feeling as she wrapped her arm around me, leaning for support. My own arm instantly found its way around her waist, pulling her closer — purely for support, I swear. We limped our way over to where Jason was, gathering our items (pain pills all around) before leaving. I honestly thought Piper would push me away for Jason, but she didn’t. She remained pressed to me all the way to the elevator and down to the private parking garage, letting me help her into the awaiting vehicle.

Once we got to Piper’s apartment, Jason helped her to the bedroom to get settled. I took the time to scan the apartment, not fully believing I was back in it. Besides some new, neon-colored throw pillows — and pots and pans hanging from above the island, which I assume Jason brought with him — nothing was different in the space. Then it occurred to me: Jason. He was taking residence in the only other bedroom, so there really was no need for me. Why did I assume I would once again be moving in? Wanda partially resided in the apartment below…I guess that would work for me. Yet, there was a part of me wasn’t okay with it…

“Well, she’s out!” Jason laughed. “Piper said she’s sorry that your room isn’t available, but you more than welcome to stay on the couch,” Jason announced as he left Piper’s room, leaving the door slightly open. “But I don’t mind giving up my room for you, Terminator.”

I gave a small smile at his nickname for me. “It’s fine, really. The couch is great; I’ve slept on worse. Believe me.”

“I do,” he stopped in front of me. “Thanks for taking care of our girl.” I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just bobbed my head, keeping my stare just off from Jason. “She still loves you, even though she says she doesn’t.” My stomach suddenly jumped up into my throat as Jason kept talking. “I think she’s coming around to you being here. But do me a favor?”

“What’s that?” I said just above a whisper, uncomfortable with where this conversation was going.

“Don’t break her heart again,” he said in a tone that told me everything I needed to know. Then, he was walking past me to his room. “There’s blankets in the basket next to the couch! Goodnight!”

After making sure the door was locked, I turned the lights off and padded my way to the couch, settling in. But it would be a while before sleep came; instead, I kept thinking of Jason’s words over and over. 


	8. Day 8

**Chapter 8 • Piper | July 5, 7:32 a.m.**

I’m not sure what it was that caused me to wake up. It wasn’t the alarm, because after talking to my dad last night, he told me to take the next couple days off. It wasn’t my twisted ankle; that was actually starting to feel better since it was properly wrapped and elevated (that’s weird…I don’t remember going to bed with a pillow underneath it). I did have a little bit of a headache, probably due to the pain medicine I was taking. _Just go back to sleep_, I told myself.

I turned to my side to better settle in when I froze, shocked at the the sleeping form of Bucky next to me. Still clad in his jeans and t-shirt — which was slightly hiked up, showing off his delicious abs — Bucky was sound asleep, on top of my covers. FUCK. I don’t remember how he got in here.

I closed my eyes and tried to piece it all together. A dream. That’s how this all started….

_It’s been a recurring dream for weeks: I’m walking through the park on campus when I’m suddenly grabbed from behind. I wrestle with the attacker, only to find it’s Jeremy. Usually by then I wake up, but this time — given the amount of pain killers in my body — it’s more sinister. I fall into a black pit, where the darkness swallows all my screams. I try to claw my way out, but keep getting pulled back down by something. My arms are soon bound, but I still have the strength to fight, for now._

_My screams for help must have come through in real life, because I’m suddenly being jostled awake by Bucky. His hands are wrapped around my wrists, holding my arms above my head. “Piper! You’re dreaming! Piper!”_

_“It was so real,” I gasped, suddenly aware of my surroundings. Bucky slowly released my arms and let me sit up. I was suddenly aware of how close we were, practically nose to nose. “It’s always so real.”_

_“You’ve been having bad dreams?” He hand cupped my face, like he was inspecting me for a cut._

_“Yeah,” I coughed, my mouth suddenly becoming really dry. Bucky got up from the bed and went into the bathroom, coming out with a glass of water. I drank it in record time. “Thanks.”_

_He set the glass on the table nearby. “You want to talk about it?”_

_Why should I? He doesn’t talk about his shit. “Not really.”_

_“Are you good?”_

_Am I good? No…my heart was still racing. “I could feel the hands on my ankles,” I mumbled. Actually, my ankle was throbbing. I must have been kicking hard. “Could you get me one of my pills?”_

_Bucky once again entered the bathroom, grabbing one of my pain pills and refilling the glass of water. I took it, this time saving some water just in case I needed some more later. I settled myself back into bed, feeling even more exhausted than when I went to bed four hours earlier. Bucky waited until I was done and was about to exit my room, until I spoke up, “Can you stay with me?” He hesitated in the doorway. “Until I fall asleep, I mean.”_

_There was a slight hesitation, but Bucky relented. “Sure.” He sat down near the foot end, remaining up right. We sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes, then I spoke up._

_“That doesn’t look comfortable.”_

_“I’m not here for comfort.”_

_I giggled. _(Ugh.)_ “You’re so weird.” Oh God…the pills were starting to do their magic. “Is this really how it’s going to be?”_

_“What do you mean?” Bucky asked after a minute. I guess it was a loaded question._

_“This new normal? Constantly fearing an attack? Always looking behind me?” I decided to be brave. “Us barely speaking to each other?”_

_“Piper —”_

_I shot up into a sitting position, startling Bucky. “You can honestly say you feel nothing for me? After _everything_ that’s happened?”_

_“It’s not that easy —”_

_“Yes or no.” Bucky huffed out a breath and was quiet for sometime. “James.”_

_That did it._

_“No. I can’t say I feel nothing for you, because that would be a lie. I still very much care about you, but I — we — can’t do anything about it.”_

_Even though he was attempting to let me down, I didn’t care. It was just the answer I needed to hear; to give me permission to…feel. Bucky was still attempting to utter out some excuse, but I stopped listening. Instead, I closed the gap between us and pressed my lips to his._

_He stilled, but didn’t move away. So I kissed him again, this time cupping his face with my hands. His beard was much thicker and rougher, but I didn’t mind. I curled my fingers around his jaw. I liked how his beard felt against my lips. I liked how _he_ felt against my lips._

_On the third kiss I felt movement from Bucky. His lips finally responded, moving against mine. My heart swelled; it was just like old times, how it’s supposed to be. But sadly, the reunion was short lived. Bucky pulled back, putting his hands on my shoulders and slightly pushing me back._

_“Piper, no.”_

_But I couldn’t protest anymore. My eyes were so heavy and my body was going limp. Damn painkillers. “I have to go to bed.” Bucky shifted so I could lay back and get my covers situated. I used every last ounce of energy to outstretch my arm, wrapping my hand around Bucky’s bicep. “Please stay.”_

_I don’t know if I was pleading for him to stay with me in that moment or for the future. But it didn’t matter, it worked. Bucky settled in next to me; the feeling of safety once again returning._

Ah, fuck. Well this is an unfortunate string of events.

I tried to get out of the bed as slowly as possible, but it was no use. Bucky caught me. “Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re wondering.” His voice was gravely and low; fucking sexy as hell.

“Not exactly the words I wanted to hear,” I mumbled back.

Pause. “Because…you _wanted_ something to happen?” I wasn’t sure how to answer his question. Did I want something to happen? (Yes.) Did I want _him_ to want something to happen? (Double yes.) But should that something happen? (No. No. No.)

“I guess I just never thought I would be in this position,” I carefully answered. “But thanks for staying with me.” I quickly added.

“So these dreams,” Bucky started after a while. “Are they always so violent?” I raised my eyebrow, looking to him for an explanation. “You kinda slapped me in the face.”

I could see the faint purpling along the left side of his jaw. “Oh god, I’m sorry!”

Bucky chuckled. “It’s fine. It balances out my other bruises, actually.” He had a real shiner next to his left eye and a knot on the right side of his forehead.

“It’s the same dream every night. Or some variation of it,” I explained after a pause. “I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep.”

“It helps to talk to someone,” he mumbled. He was silent for a while; in fact, I was just about to get out of the bed when he finally spoke up. “I had really bad dreams when I got back home. For a year. Then I started going to therapy.”

This was it, this was really happening. Bucky was opening up to me. I settled back in my spot, sitting up against my headboard, letting him know I was listening. “Did it help?”

“It did. It does,” he quickly corrected, hinting that he still goes. “I still have some once in a while and they can be bad. It happens more when I drink… or when I’m really stressed out.”

When we were in the bunker, Bucky told me about some of his dreams — reliving some missions, some childhood traumas. But I didn’t expect him to detail his most horrific dream.

“Hydra attacked my unit in 2010, the IED on that train. After all that time in the hospital, this robotics company approached me about installing an implant. It was a dream to hear that my life could go back to near normal,” he confessed. I nodded along, understanding. “So I went with them. Willingly. They installed this arm, but did a bunch of other _tests_ on me. Something about my genetic makeup they wanted to study.”

Bucky went into detail about the tests he underwent. But even worse, the brainwashing he was subjected to. There were weeks of his life he doesn’t remember. Unexplained cuts and bruises he would find.

The company was Hydra.

“Later, after Steve and Sam rescued me, I realized they were trying to make me into this weapon. Someone who wouldn’t take no or be able to stop. A, a —”

“A Super Soldier,” I finished for him.

“Exactly,” he said, almost sounding relieved. “I did some bad things…some that I remember and will never be able to forget.”

“That doesn’t make _you_ a bad person.”

He shrugged. “I know, but it doesn’t make me forget. Or feel less awful. It’s something I’ll always have to live with.”

We were silent for some time. I stared down at Bucky, who was still lying in the same position on the bed, but this time, had his arm draped across my legs. “I dream of Jeremy. He always finds me.” I chuckled. “It’s not the same, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I brought it up.”

“No! That’s good,” he shot up, mirroring my sitting position against the headboard. “You need to talk about it.”

“Sometimes, I win. Other times, he does.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, his hand covering mine. “But you’re so tough — tougher than you know. He’s never going to get you again.”

“I know, but it’s not just him,” I practically spat. “There’s always something else — _someone_ else. It’s like I’m in a fishbowl, all alone, waiting for the next blow to the glass.”

Bucky stared at me — I mean, really stared at me. Like he was looking right into my brain. It scared me, so I quickly changed the subject. “So this arm, it’s still the same one?”

Bucky hesitated, but took my topic switch as my being done. “No, it’s not. Call it paranoia, but I thought the old one was still programmed by Hydra, even from afar.”

Bucky said a technologist from Wakanda crafted his new arm and it was more state of the art than anything else out there. “It took some time to adjust and learn, but I love it, believe it or not. It’s one of the brighter spots during that dark time.”

I stared at his arm. It really was a beautiful piece of equipment. “Thank you for opening up to me.” Bucky still looked troubled, like something heavy was weighing on his mind. “What?”

“I hope you can see why I did what I did,” he offered. “It’s not okay what I did, but in my head it was the only thing I could do to keep you safe.”

“I get it, I do,” I said, swallowing back the threat of tears. “Believe me, it sucked. But I get it and…I-I forgive you.” Bucky visibly let out a sigh, one that he had probably been holding in for some time. “But you’re not a monster. I don’t see you as anything but heroic and amazing.” A light pink spread across his cheeks, which made me smile. Who knew he was so bashful.

I thought my forgiveness would lead to something else — what, I’m not sure. But it didn’t. For some reason, I still can’t quite tell him what I truly fear: him leaving again.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“What?”

Bucky grabbed my left forearm and extended it. I looked down in confusion, until I noticed what he was looking at: the bracelet he gave me. “Why do you still wear this?”

I stared at it for a couple beats, unable to answer. Instead, I got up from the bed and limped my way to the kitchen to make breakfast.


	9. Day 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda did my own version of Doc Samson. Hope that's okay! ;)

**Chapter 9 • Piper | July 8, 8:57 a.m.**

Much to everyone’s surprise, the shooting outside of The Orange doesn’t make it to the media. Either someone did a good job of keeping it quiet, or the noises were truly taken for early fireworks. But regardless, it still weighed on everyone’s minds, especially Bucky. He was pretty quiet over the past few days.

I was heading back to work today after a couple days off. Well, after I stopped by the therapist’s office. I finally gave in to Bucky’s suggestions of talking to someone. He said he had a friend who owed him a favor, and he was the best on the East Coast. Having a contract with the U.S. Army, Doc Samson saw a lot of distress military men and women. He also helped a guy named Bruce — who works with Bucky — through his anger issues.

But it was Bucky’s high praise of his own work with Doc Samson that made me do it. So that’s why I was sitting on his plush taupe couch in his huge office overlooking the Potomac.

“Normally, I know nothing about my clients before they step into this office,” Doc Samson started. “But that’s not the case with you, unfortunately.” He paused, studying me. He was an attractive man - in his late 40s, maybe early 50s. Tall, thin, with a thick head of hair that was perfectly groomed. As soon as Bucky introduced me to him, I felt comfortable around him. I don’t know if it was his demeanor or his voice. “So tell me, how have all the events from the past year affected you?”

I sucked in a breath. That was a complicated question. “Well, I have dreams. I don’t sleep much. The pills I sometimes take to help me sleep leave me in a fog. I have panic attacks and can’t do crowds. I…I don’t feel safe.”

“That’s a lot,” Doc Samson answered after a while. “Let’s start with the one that troubles me the most. Why don’t you feel safe?” I shrugged, as if it should be a clear reason why. “Surely someone that has their own security detail and a well protected home should feel safe every night she goes to bed?”

“It doesn’t feel the same, my apartment. Not since….not since Jeremy was in there. Not since, Bucky was there…” I can’t believe I just admitted that. What power does this guy have? “I find it hard to trust anyone now, since…everything happened.” I paused, trying to sort my jumbled thoughts. “Everything is different now.”

“How do you mean?”

“I see things differently. The city’s not the same anymore. All I see are threats and darkness. The people in my life are all different. It’s all just…changed.”

Doc Samson nodded along, understanding. “Trauma has a way of doing that. It manifests, like in your dreams. It makes you doubt, worry and fear. It causes these panic attacks and episodes. Makes you mistrust and feel overwhelmed. But there’re ways to combat all those things.”

“There are?”

“You’re doing one right now - asking for support, and I’m so proud of you for that.” Doc got up from his chair and reached into a draw, bringing out a small booklet and handed it to me. On the front cover, it read “Living with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

“I’ve never been in war.”

“It’s not just for soldiers, although that’s the common cause of it now a days,” Doc answered, sitting back down across from me. “PTSD is when your nerves are ‘stuck.’ You’re in psychological shock and can’t make sense of what you’re feeling. You’ve gone through a lot in less than a year, but you’re still standing and functioning. You should be proud.”

Doc Samson went on to detail some things I could do for my recovery. More physical activities that will stimulate my brain, like boxing or rock climbing. He also said I should be more social and avoid stress, “it will help with my feeling isolated.”

“The social part isn’t a problem, but the stress…”

He laughed. “Your career in politics isn’t the greatest, but we can work with it.”

“Politics isn’t what I want to do.”

“No?”

I shook my head. “No…I just can’t get the nerve to tell my Dad.”

“Would that upset him?”

“No. I mean, maybe at first, but he would understand. He only wants what’s best for me.”

“Then why haven’t you told him?”

I shrugged. “I guess there just hasn’t been a good time.”

“There never is,” he chuckled. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to go into fashion. Like my mom,” I said, her beautiful face coming to the forefront of my mind. “She was my idol. Is my idol. I always wanted to be like her.”

“Then why don’t you?”

I was silent for some time. My usual answer is that my Dad would never allow that, given my mom’s death. But that wasn’t the truth. “Because I could never be like her.”

“Piper, I’ve only known you for — 44 minutes now — but from what I can see, you are enough. You can do anything you set your mind to.”

_I am enough._

“Piper, I’m going to say something and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.”

“Okay.”

“Granted, we haven’t delved into your childhood and upbringing much, but I imagine it was very rigid and scheduled?” I nodded. “You always have to be somewhere, dress and act a certain way?” I nodded once more. “I think you’re craving power.”

“I’m craving…power?”

“I think one of the reasons you’re lacking this confidence is because you’ve never made many choices in your life — everything’s been laid out for you. The people you’ve surrounded yourself with do things for you. Even the culture you live in, causes you to be passive.”

He was right. He was _so _right.

Dad and his team always had events scheduled for me. I was expected to act and dress like the good, dutiful First Daughter. Hell, my going to GWU and studying in political science was determined when I was in junior high. I guess I’ve always realized this, but I never considered it was keeping me from becoming into the person I was meant to be.

“Holy shit,” I mumbled.

“Can you think of some examples of times when you’ve been in control?”

It took a minute — that’s not good… — but I listed some. “When I snuck into Kol. Punching Jimmy Mason in the nose in the third grade. Making clothes for Jason. My fashion show.” Suddenly, Bucky’s face flashed in my mind. And then it just slipped out of my mouth, “sleeping with my bodyguard.”

I was quick to put my head in my hands and cringe. I thought I heard a gasp from Doc Samson, but I wasn’t sure. I was too embarrassed to look up. “That’s like, a really destructive decision.”

“I’m not going to put a label on any of your actions. Do you think it was destructive?”

“It’s probably not a good one.”

“But it’s a decision _you_ made.” I peaked through my fingers, feeling relieved that he wasn’t mad. “I think this is our time, for now, Piper. But I would love to explore this next time, if you’re willing.”

I nodded my head, still feeling a little uneasy. “Yeah, I would like that.”

Doc Samson walked me to his door, his hand cupping my elbow. “The best thing I can tell you, Piper, is to be mindful and acknowledge what you’re feeling. It does you no good to push these feelings aside. Or worse, bury them,” he opened the door for me and I stepped out. “Everything you’ve felt is a normal reaction to abnormal events. Remember that.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

I made my way out of the office building, making sure my eye makeup was normal-looking while I was in the elevator. As I made my way down the sidewalk, I realized Bucky wasn’t out front in his usual black SUV. Instead, Sam was waiting for me, standing next to a much flashier sports car.

“You don’t look like Bucky.”

“That is the nicest thing you could ever say to me,” he smiled and opened the passenger door for me. “He had to finish an errand, so I’m driving you today.”

I gave him a look, but got in, secretly glad I wore dress slacks today. It was a low car. I did a quick sweep of the car before Sam got in. “You don’t like to blend in, huh?” I don’t know why I felt the need to tease him; we don’t know each other. But his personality is so infectious, it was hard for him to not feel like a friend.

“Girl, please.”

We were off in a flash, arriving at the private entrance to the White House in what felt like seconds. I quickly let myself out of the car, vowing I would never ride in that car or with Sam again. I waved goodbye before going into the building. Dad’s office was in the west wing; so I used the back hallway to get there, as White House tours would be active now.

“Hello Miss Piper,” Martha, one of the chefs, said. She’d been here for years. More “hellos” came from staffers and aides, all running about on another normal day.

I was about to the office, taking note of agents in the hall, talking amongst each other. One of them held my stare, smiling as I approached. “Hi,” I said, unsure of what else to say. Weirdo.

Then, it dawned upon me. Rather, the familiar bruise by his eye — Bucky. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around, unable to keep my mouth from hanging open. Bucky was standing there, wearing the standard black and white security suit, sans beard. His face was completely clean; so clean, in fact, there wasn’t even a trace of a single facial hair. Has his chin always had that slight cleft?

And his hair — his hair! It was short along the sides, but still somewhat long on top. It was nicely styled, parted to one side and thankfully, not pressed against his head like it had been the first night we met. Between the hair and the shave — as well as the brilliant smile on his face — Bucky looked 10 years younger, easy.

“Miss Stewart?” he asked, making me suddenly realize my mouth was still hanging open. Hopefully I hadn’t drooled…

“W-what happened?” was all I could muster, making me blush. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, w-why? W-w-who?”

“I decided I needed to look the part if I was going to be a part of your security detail,” his smile turned into a smirk. “Do I look okay?”

The fucker knew what he was doing. Making my knees go all weak. “It’s good, I mean okay. It’s cool.” I had to end this awkwardness. Bucky was getting too much pleasure out of it. “I’m going to work now,” I mumbled.

“You’re already at work,” he whispered to me, still smirking.

“I meant in there,” I pointed my thumb behind me. I went to turn, walking into the frame of the door. _What the fuck is happening? _a voice inside me yelled. “I’ll be in here.” I briefly looked behind me, seeing Bucky trying to hold a laugh in. I quickly darted in the room and around the corner to my desk, sinking down, wishing the ground would swallow me up.

Well this day got a whole lot more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clean shaven Bucky..oh yeah...
> 
> www.ign.com/wikis/captain-america-the-first-avenger/James_Buchanan_%22Bucky%22_Barnes


	10. Day 11 (still)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a good one! (I may be biased.)

**Chapter 10 • Bucky | July 8, 3:32 p.m. **

I figured I would get a reaction from Piper, but I had no idea it would be like the one I got. To say I was amused would be an understatement. It kept me chuckling all day. I’ve never seen her act that way, tripping over her words. It made me feel….good.

Truly, I didn’t do it to feel that way. Ever since douchebag Graham told me I didn’t look the part, it was in the back of my mind. I knew a lot was riding on the Stewarts and their image. I just wanted to be helpful and fit into that world.

I went about my business for the day, which was basically standing out in the hall, gathering any information I could. Sadly, it wasn’t much. Some of the other guys aren’t chatty. And even the ones who are, they’re closely guarded. I checked in with Steve and Sam, only to find that they haven’t gotten any closer to finding a suspect.

My mind then drifted to a few nights ago, waking up Piper from her nightmare. It broke me to hear her screaming and to see her visibly shaken. It only made me want to seriously hurt whoever was behind all of this.

I also couldn’t help thinking about the kiss. Granted, Piper never would have done it without being under the influence of her pain killers…I think. I never thought I would have the chance to kiss her again. And I’ve come to realize, that I want more and more of those chances.

“Sargent Barnes?” A voice broke me out of my reverie. “You’ve been — woah…what have we here?” It was Graham. I felt a little vindicated as he, too, fumbled over his words. What was left to criticize now? “You certainly upped your game.”

“I figured I’m already the best thing the Stewarts have, may as well look the part, too.”

Graham lifted his chin, sticking his pointed nose in the air. “Well, I don’t know about that.”

I held in a chuckle. “Is there a reason you called for me?”

“What? Oh um, yes…well, as I’m sure you know, the Daily Bugle newspaper finally launched their own 24-hour news channel, the Bugle News. Mr. Stewart was set to be their first interview, but we have a scheduling conflict. I offered to reschedule for later, but they need something now to fill their time slot. I don’t know why, because it’s twenty-four hours…”

“And your point?” I interrupted him. This man and his incessant talking…

He huffed out a breath. “They showed interest in having Miss Stewart come on the show in place of her father. I’m against it, but any press is good press.” I ignored his suggestion that Piper wouldn’t be capable of giving a good interview. “I figured I should let you know, since I assume you’ll be assisting her there.”

“I am her security detail.”

“Right…well, she leaves in ten minutes. She goes on air at five.”

I sent off a text to Steve to update him on my new plans, and made sure I had everything I needed - my wallet, keys, gun. You know, the basics. I was about to step into Mr. Stewart’s office to see if Piper was ready, but she beat me to it. She was walking out of the office, bag over her shoulder and reading some index cards.

“Ready?” I asked. She mumbled a “yea,” staying focused on the cards. We made our way to the waiting vehicle in silence, Piper intently studying whatever was on those cards. “What are you reading?”

“Just some talking points Graham wants me to work into the conversation,” she sighed, putting the cards in her bag and getting in the back of the SUV. “Any pointers on how a 22-year-old can effortlessly talk about Medicare?”

I chuckled. “I’m afraid not.”

“Rats.”

The trip to the studio was uneventful. Piper looked out the window, chewing on her lip, while I pretended not to notice. I wanted to ask her about how her time with Doc Samson was, and if she planned to see him again. I wanted to hear about any tools or tips he gave her with her nightmares. But I didn’t ask either, because it wasn’t my business. If she wanted to tell me, she would. I had no right to pry. She deserved to keep something private.

We arrived at the studio just after 4:30, which gave Piper plenty of time to read through her cards for the umpteenth time, as well as fix her hair — like it needed fixing — and do her make up — she put on a cherry red lipstick. We were standing by in a small dressing room when there was a loud, abrupt knock on the door, with it opening soon after. Piper barely had the chance to respond, and I barely had the time to see who was on the other side. No matter, because in walked a guy in a blue pinstripe suit, his hair a dark flat top, with a just-as-dark mustache on his face. He was shorter than me, but somehow still seemed to fill the space with his presence.

“Hello there, I’m J. Jonah Jameson, publisher of the Bugle and, well, owner and CEO of Bugle News,” he extended his hand to Piper, then to myself. “I am so pleased we could have you on the show, Piper.”

His casualty with Piper irked me.

“Well, thanks for having me and for giving us this time, when you could have gotten someone else,” Piper eloquently responded. “It means a lot to us.”

“You know, I’m almost more pleased to have you than your father,” he bluntly stated. “Nothing about politics, mind you. You’ve been through the wringer over the past few months and I think you’ve inspired a lot of people. There’s just something so alluring about you.”

“Uh…thanks.”

_The fuck?_

Before Piper could say anything else, Jameson introduced us to Kim Robinson, who would be conducting the interview. She’d been a reporter for three years, switching to television when Jameson started his station. She looked terrifying, her bleached blonde hair pulled tightly back into a bun, her make up harsh and cold-toned.

“I’m so thrilled to be sharing your story, Piper,” she said enthusiastically. “I hope people learn a lot tonight.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“We’ll give you some peace before you go on,” Jameson said, abruptly ending the meeting. “See you in five.”

“Well they seemed…” Piper started, waiting a few beats after the door closed.

“…weird.” I finished for her.

“So weird!” she whispered, her face pulled into a weird expression. “I’m kind of uncomfortable.”

Her awareness struck me, the hairs on the back of my neck standing. One of our interns — Peter — says he often has instances like this, where his instincts kick in. We jokingly call them his “Spidey Senses,” due to his affection for spiders. But maybe he’s on to something…

“You don’t have to do this,” I told her, standing between her and the door. “We can leave right now.”

She gave me an incredulous look. “No, I have to do this. My dad — and Graham — are depending on me.” She glanced at her phone. “Besides, I go on in three minutes.”

She walked out the door and I followed. “If you want to stop at anytime, give me a sign.”

“What should my sign be?”

“Tap your left wrist with your right hand.”

Piper, who was now being pinned with a mic, smirked at me. “And then what will you do?”

“I’ll burn the place down.” Piper laughed, her brilliant smile lighting up. “I’m serious.”

“Thanks, Bucky,” she squeezed my shoulder with her hand, then took her seat next to the reporter. I took my spot in the shadows, behind the cameras and blaring lights. Piper, on the other hand, looked radiant in the warm glow. Her green eyes sparkled and her red lips were perfectly glossed. She looked like a movie star and I was in love.

Fuck. _Love?_

I didn’t have the time to have an existential crisis — the interview was starting. It was your normal, boring start to an interview - welcoming viewers for tuning in, the launch of the news channel, blah blah. But as soon as the reporter started interviewing Piper, my senses were going off.

“Joining us is Piper Stewart, daughter of presidential candidate and current Vice-President Charles Stewart. Piper has been one of the driving forces behind her father’s campaign, isn’t that right?”

“I don’t know about driving force, but certainly a part of it,” Piper quickly responded. “Ever since I was young, I’ve had some sort of role, I suppose. Now that I graduated, it’s great to be able to use my education and strengths more directly.”

It was a great answer. Then Kim Robinson shit on it.

“It’s fortunate your boss is your dad,” she said, almost bitterly. “I bet that made finding a job post-university that much easier.”

Piper quickly glanced my way, but didn’t say anything. She couldn’t, because Kim was on her next question.

“I feel as if we need to address the elephant in the room,” she started. “You’ve had a very traumatic year. How are you doing?”

Piper gulped, then drew a breath, visibly shaken. Her hands went together in her lap, her right over her left. We were minutes in and Piper was already preparing herself to give me the signal. I could feel the vein in my neck pulse. “Well….”

I had half a mind to end this right here and now, but I was stopped by Jameson. He wrapped his hand around my shoulder, tightly, holding me back. “This is a historic day,” he whispered, rather loudly.

“Shouldn’t Miss Stewart be asked about her father’s campaign? Not her personal life,” I demanded. I couldn’t hear the answer Piper was giving, since Jameson was talking to me.

“Personal life? No such thing when you’re a public figure,” he shot back, his fingers digging more into my shoulder. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “Besides, when we found out Piper was available, we knew we had to jump at the chance and get this interview.”

I turned back to the interview before me, my eyes wide. Fuck. Piper was fucked from the start.

“…it’s been an extremely hard few months, no doubt. Like I said, a lot of awful things have happened. But I’ve had an amazing support system around me.”

My nerves settled a bit, seeing Piper handling herself and remaining somewhat calm. The reporter pandered to Piper a bit, being sympathetic to the struggles she’s gone through. The conversation then switched to her upbringing, which seemed safe. Until it wasn’t.

“It’s no secret that you had a rebellious streak growing up,” Kim asked with a smirk.

Piper returned the smirk. “Guilty. I had some moments. It wasn’t always easy fitting into this perfect world I was expected to be a part of. But I don’t have to be perfect; I’m not perfect.”

The reporter nodded. “What was maybe the worse thing you’ve ever done?”

Fuck…..

Piper laughed. “Nope, not going there. My dad’s watching!”

Kim laughed. “So no sex tape or anything like that.”

“God, no!” The two laughed again.

“Just pictures, then?”

Piper’s smile froze and she cocked her head. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I glanced over at Jameson, a smug smile forming on his face.

“No…” Piper said, sounding a bit weary.

“How do you explain these racy photos then?”

On the screen in front of us, as well as Piper, appeared the photos of her in her underwear and kimono — the ones from the first night I met her. The ones that were taken by someone from Hydra, used to blackmail her. Piper’s face fell, and my heart broke. Someone needed to be punched, and that someone was Jameson.

But all I could do was stare at Piper. My heart was pounding in my chest, but also in my ears. That damn vein was pulsing like a second heart, I could feel it. I was a mess, but Piper wasn’t, at least visibly. I looked at her hands, ready to run out and bust every camera in the room, but Piper wasn’t giving me the signal. Instead, she kept her hands flat against her thighs; she looked relatively calm and collected. It was a good thirty seconds before she responded.

“Yes, those are real photos, which were taken by a stalker. Actually, by someone who was blackmailing me and later tried to kill me. Twice. I don’t know how you got them, but I can assure you, my legal team will find out,” she forced a smile on her face. “Besides, I was in my own home, where I dress however I want. So, while you’re doing your best to slut shame me, nice try. Go back to to the fifties.”

Piper got up from her chair and ripped her microphone off, throwing it at the reporter and walked off the set. Then, Jameson laughed. “You can’t get better than this!”

Before I knew it, my hands went to Jameson’s and I shoved him back to the wall, in the shadows. “Where the fuck did you get those?”

“An anonymous fan.” His smug smirk never left his face, making me only want to wipe it off all the more.

“Those are classified; used in an investigation.”

Jameson just chuckled, his eyes boring into mine. “Rumor has it, you were in the room when those pictures were taken.”

I wanted to knock his lights out so fucking bad. But I couldn’t, because Piper was yanking on my arm. In the 30 seconds she left the chair, she must have gone to the green room and gotten our things, ready to get the hell out of here. Like I blame her. “Let’s go.”

I gave Jameson one last hard look, and one more vow. “You’re going to pay for that.”

I followed Piper out of the studio, struggling to keep up with her pace. And she was wearing heels. “Piper —”

“Let’s get to the car.” I tried to reason with her once more, but this time, she snapped at me. “_No._” I could see that her eyes were becoming more glassy; the tears were coming.

We walked out of the building in silence, making our way to the VIP parking lot just nearby. I ran in front of her, getting to the car first and opening the door, helping her in. I raced over to the driver’s side in record time, starting the car and driving off. We made it three blocks before Piper’s panic attack started.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” she covered her face with her hands and started rocking back and forth. Both of our phones also started going off. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

I immediately pulled over, parking in front of a park, and turned the car off. I turned in my seat and gripped Piper’s shoulders. “You did nothing wrong. This is all on them; they just showed their true character.”

“Everyone is going to see those,” Piper started crying. “My dad…”

“He’ll understand,” I rubbed up and down her arms, trying to make her feel comforted. “Don’t be embarrassed by this. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” I pulled Piper to me and held her — as much as you can hold someone with a center console in your way.

“When’s it going to stop, Bucky?” Piper sobbed into my chest. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Damn it. I should have killed Jameson when I had the chance. Or at least burnt the place down.

“I know, Pipes. I’m so sorry,” I further tucked her into me, resting my head on top of hers. If only I could shield her from everything for the rest of her life. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”

Piper sniffled a few more times before pulling herself from me. She did her best to wipe away her running mascara, trying to compose herself. “Fuck,” she mumbled.

“Can I just say, you handled yourself like a pro,” I said. “I’m so proud.”

“Thanks,” she attempted to smile. “What are we going to do now?”

I sent a text to Jason from my phone, then buckled my seat belt and started the car. “Well, I’m going to take you home, where Jason will have a big margarita waiting.” Piper genuinely laughed, but I didn’t join her. The urge to punch something was still lit inside. But I had to focus that elsewhere, into getting to the bottom of this. “Then, I’m going to find the rat in our house.”


	11. Day 13

**Chapter 11 • Piper | July 10, 12:32 p.m. **

The outpouring of support I had since the interview was staggering. I think every news outlet in the world covered the interview, many speaking in defense of me. A lot of commentators — on both sides of the political spectrum — were calling for the Bugle News to be shut down. The loudest voice in that push was Hanks.

On social media, I had a million — maybe more — of tweets, posts and comments thanking me for standing up to “slut shaming” and bullying, all for simply being an undressed woman in my own home.

While Graham wanted me to lay low — he even mentioned taking me off the team, which my father rejected faster than when I would ask for $100 when I was in high school — my Dad took this bullying as another step into his Presidential plan. He vowed to work with the House and Senate to draft and pass legislation banning this type of act of revenge, whether it be online, on TV or in any other form.

“No person — woman _or_ man — should be subjected to this type of humiliation,” he said in a press conference early the next morning, after the interview. “I’m just sorry to my daughter that this happened. And I’m ashamed that it took something like this to happen to open up this conversation.”

Bucky’s vow of finding the mole wasn’t a lie. It literally consumed him. For the past two days, he was either on the phone with his Avenger Security crew or speaking to Secret Service or FBI agents. He was possessed with finding out who was behind the leak, which strangely made me calm.

“It’s like Bucky has taken this worry from me,” I tried to explain to Jason and Dinah over lunch. “I mean, I still totally feel violated, don’t get me wrong. But I’m not worrying over it.”

“It’s because he cares for you,” Jason reasoned. “He’s been up almost all night for the past two days, tracking down leads.”

Dinah, on the other hand, scoffed. “It’s his job. He’s being paid to eliminate any threat,” she stated with a roll of her eyes. She sucked the last bit of Diet Coke from her glass before speaking again. “Honestly, why do you keep getting Piper’s hopes up.”

This sober, broken version of Dinah was not my favorite. Luckily, Jason was quick to put her in her place.

“Will you shut the fuck up with your bitter ass?” he snapped. “Piper’s going through some tough stuff and all you’re doing is pushing her down.”

“I am _not_,” she snapped back. “I’m being real here. Soldier Man left already and didn’t even look twice when he broke her heart. I don’t want it to happen again.”

“Okay stop,” I snapped at the two. Seriously, nearby diners at the cafe were starting to stare. I waited until the stares went away before I spoke again, this time quieter. “I guess I should tell you both, something’s changed between me and Bucky.” Jase and Dinah responded at the same time, both with vastly different responses. “The night we got back from the hospital, Bucky stayed with me. And…I…might have kissed him.”

“Might?” Dinah questioned.

“I knew it! I had to pee at four in the morning and he wasn’t on the couch!” Jason exclaimed. It made me smile.

“I blame the heavy influence of drugs,” I said, looking pointedly at Dinah. “But I don’t know, something’s different. I really do think he cares, especially after what Jameson did.”

I told them how he arranged a night in — with alcohol — with Jase, which Dinah hated since she wasn’t invited. I told them how he had been fielding all my incessant phone calls, which were mainly comments for articles and interview requests. I also told them Bucky he worked with the legal team to bring a slew of charges against the Bugle News. As of later today, Jameson and the company would be served with a cease and desist letter, shutting the cable news show off the air, not even a week into its debut.

“Damn,” Jase said. “Bucky gets shit done.”

“Well, I still haven’t forgiven him for breaking my arm,” Dinah muttered. “Or leaving you.”

“Trust me, he had his reasons,” I said, which I would not share. “Look, nothing else has happened. But I just wanted to tell my friends how I was feeling.”

Jason grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “You deserve so much happiness. And if Bucky brings that to you, we’ll trust your judgement.” He glared at Dinah, a bite to his last few words. “_And_ we’ll be supportive.”

Dinah rolled her eyes, but agreed. “I’ll be nice.”

We finished our lunch and made our way out of the restaurant, where another Secret Service agent was waiting for me. My heart sank a little, realizing it wasn’t Bucky. Dinah and Jason grabbed an Uber back to the apartment, where they were to finish packing Jason for his trip. Truthfully, thinking about him being gone for nearly four months made tears spring to my eyes.

I threw myself right back into work when I returned from lunch, pulling up the latest poll numbers and keeping tabs on our social media sites. I sighed, was this seriously going to be my only job for the campaign? I could do this in my sleep.

After a couple hours, I took a break, taking out my phone and texting Bucky. I hadn’t seen him since this morning.

_“Where are you?”_ I typed. Hopefully I didn’t come off as needy? I had to play this cool.

The three dots fluttered on the screen for what felt like an eternity. Maybe Bucky was just a slow texter? This was literally only my third time texting him. And all the other questions only warranted an “OK.”

_I’ll be there soon_

I put my phone back in my desk and finished compiling my updated information for my dad. Even though it was kind of at my expense, Dad’s numbers were soaring. Voters were impressed with his quick action, direct plan and condemning of the publication of the pictures. While it was viewed as an accurate reaction for a father, nearly everyone saw his proactiveness as a step forward. My dad was touched by the support that came forward from the public, especially the hundreds of women who shared their own stories.

“Here’s the updated figures,” I said, standing next to my dad, who was sitting at his desk. I gave him my report and he hummed in approval as he looked it over. I didn’t get the chance to hear his comment, because the door to the office burst open, revealing Graham with a panicked look on his face.

It took a couple seconds, but we realized Graham had that look on his face because Bucky was behind him, holding his right arm behind his back, in a twisted grip. He pushed Graham into the room, slamming him on Dad’s desk, sending his mail tray and cup of pencils every which way.

“What the hell?” My dad exclaimed, standing from his seat. “Just what are you doing, Barnes?”

“There’s your fucking mole,” he responded, stunning us into silence.

“What?” I asked after sometime, almost waiting for the two guys before us to break, chalking it up to a prank. But Bucky was dead serious.

“A couple techs were able to trace the photo from the Bugle News back to Graham here. He’s the one that sent it to Jameson,” Bucky stated, pushing Graham even harder into the desk. I watched as Bucky’s metal hand gripped against the back of Graham’s neck, the skin around his fingers starting to purple. I was just waiting for the _snap._

“Is this true?” my dad asked. Graham’s wheezing was the only sound filling the air. “_Answer me!”_ Dad yelled, startling me even more.

“Yes,” he choked out. “But I didn’t know.”

“Release him, Barnes,” my dad ordered. Bucky did as told. Graham snapped up, rubbing his left hand over his right arm and holding it to his body. “You didn’t know what?"

“I didn’t know _that’s _what they were going to do with the photo,” he offered.

“You didn’t think a shady news organization would do something, oh I don’t know, shady,” Bucky supplied. Graham ignored him, only looking at my dad.

“I swear,” he tried to apologize, my dad cutting him off.

“Is that why you were so insistent Piper be interviewed?”

I recoiled. “Me? He told me you bailed last minute. That I was the best second.” Now I was fuming.

“That’s what he told me, too,” Bucky added.

“What’s your angle, Graham?” Dad asked. “Why did you do it? Better to be upfront about it now.”

“How did you get the picture?” Bucky added to the barrage of questions. Graham didn’t answer. But all Bucky had to do was make a fist and raise it, causing Graham to squeal.

“It was sent to me and I was made an offer to leak it,” he rushed out, holding his hands in front of his face.

“By who?” I quietly asked. I didn’t think Graham heard me, he was silent so long.

“I don’t know, honestly,” he said, adding the last plea when Bucky raised his fist once more. “It was sent via email, then money showed up in my bank account. Half before and the other half once I sent the email.”

My dad looked from Graham to Bucky, their eyes meeting, saying something that didn’t need to be verbally said. “I need access to every email account you own,” Bucky said, gripping Graham’s arm once more. “And your bank accounts.”

Graham whimpered, but didn’t argue.

“Also, you’re fired.” Dad added. And then Graham actually had the audacity to rebuttal. “You’re lucky I don’t have you thrown in jail, left to rot. Or worse.” Dad finally sat back down, adjusting his suit jacket. “It’d be in your best interest to stick around town, or else I’ll send Barnes after you.”

With that, Bucky gave a smug smile to Graham, causing him to whimper once more.

“You can take him out of here,” my dad addressed Bucky, picking my report back up.

“Just one more thing, sir,” Bucky said, turning Graham to me. “I believe you owe Miss Stewart an apology.”

“But, I — ” Graham pleaded. In a split second, Bucky had Graham slammed back on the desk, his head definitely making a _whomp!_ sound. It startled both of us.

“_That’s not an apology_,” Bucky enunciated in a sharp tone, his fingers once again gripping Graham’s neck.

“I-I-I’m _sorry_,” Graham said between chokes. He actually made eye contact with me, too. But I was too stunned at the scene before me to even speak. I think I nodded, but I’m still not even sure.

Then, just like that, Graham was up and moving toward the door, Bucky trailing behind him.

“Oh and Graham,” my dad called. Bucky stopped his escorting, turning Graham in place. “If Sergeant Barnes can’t find who is responsible for this, you’ll pay.” Even I felt a chill go down my spine at my dad’s cold words, the air from the room suddenly evaporating. “That’s all.” He waved his hand back to Bucky, sending the two back out the door.


	12. Day 13 (still)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. I suck. But to make up for it.....this is a good one. :)

**Chapter 12 • Piper | July 10, 6:32 p.m. **

I don’t know why I bothered even staying at work until 5:30, my normal quitting time. I wasn’t productive a damn minute after Graham’s beatdown. Neither was my dad. We sat in the office, shocked and discussing our options. Ultimately, we decided to leave it up to Bucky and to trust his team to get to the bottom of it.

Bucky hadn’t returned to the White House by the time I was done with work, so Gabe, my dad’s head security detail, drove me home. Another couple agents were stationed out front of the door. I gave them a brisk “hello” before hurrying into my apartment to promptly began drinking and telling Jason all about it.

“I never liked the guy, but never expected him to do this,” Jase gasped. I was sitting on his bed, telling him everything while he finished packing. He was set to leave first thing in the morning.

“Me either,” I agreed. My mind replayed everything for the hundredth time, a chill still going down my spine. “I can’t believe how Bucky just brought him in and…took control of everything.”

Jase shrugged. “That’s what he’s good at, right?”

“I guess,” I lamely responded. I pressed my hand against my head, trying to suppress the headache I was starting to get. “Enough about me. What about you? Are you ready to hit the road?”

He hesitated, but soon his brilliant smile appeared on his face. “I can’t wait. This is my big shot. If I make big enough waves, can you imagine what this will lead to?”

“RuPaul’s Drag Race?” I squealed. (Yes, I fucking squealed.)

“Don’t even go there!” Jase clutched his heart, but still smirked.

We talked about some of his routines and outfits for another twenty minutes. The conversation came to a halt when we heard the door to the apartment open and shut. We both dropped everything and ran — okay, staggered — out. It was Bucky…obviously. He’s the only other one that has a key.

“What happened with Graham?” I demanded.

Bucky shrugged off his jacket — why was he even wearing a jacket? It’s 90 fucking degrees! — and placed it on the coat rack by the door. His face was still hard; he was still pissed. “I took him home.”

“And?” I nudged.

“Did you rough him up?” Jase supplied. I turned to him and gave him a look.

“‘Rough him up’? Are you a gangster?”

“I don’t know the terminology.”

We stopped our banter, noticing that Bucky was silent. In fact, he had actually made his way over to the island, where we had margarita fixings out. We watched as Bucky poured himself a shot of tequila, throwing it back sans salt and lime.

“A-are you okay?” I asked.

He deeply sighed, pouring himself another shot. He threw it back before responding. “No, I’m not.”

I clearly couldn’t stop myself from prying, because I kept talking. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“How are you not more upset?” he snapped. “Do you realize there’s someone out there who is attempting to sabotage you? And probably your father? Instead you’re up here, partying?”

Just like it had in my dad’s office, the air in the room disappeared. But this time, I felt my skin flush, anger slowly rising up.

“I better finish packing,” Jason mumbled, quickly turning on his heel and going into his room, shutting — and…locking? — his door.

I swallowed and tried to gather my thoughts before responding. “Of course I’m upset. I’m embarrassed. Mortified. Furious. Betrayed. Devastated and every other fucking emotion a person can be. But forgive me if I wanted to just forget about it for a few fucking hours. Forgive me if I want to pretend I’m a normal 22-year-old sending her best friend off. Forgive me for just wanting to be normal.”

I was yelling, I was actually yelling. Bucky was soon in front of me, his hands on my arms. “Piper, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” I was trembling, trying to to get my breath back. Bucky took my silence as an opportunity to speak. “I’ve never been in any situation like this. I’ve never not been able to get to the bottom of something. I’m beyond frustrated. I didn’t mean to direct that to you; I’m sorry.” His hands went down my arms and into my own, pulling me to him. “Can you forgive me?”

I nodded, finding myself closing the gap between us. His cologne and soothing voice overtook my senses, lulling me into a sense of calm. My breath finally returned. “I didn’t think you drank,” I said, changing the subject.

“Yeah, well, today called for a shot. Or two.”

We stayed in our position for a few minutes, finding comfort in the closeness. I glanced down to our joined hands and closed my eyes. Even though I swore to myself I would never be back in this situation, deep down in me, I knew it was inevitable. I may not have known it at the time, but from the minute I met Bucky, I had met my match. He was the only one that truly knew me, inside and out. I’ve never felt safer, but at the same time, more seen. I swallowed the lump in my throat that was forming.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” he whispered.

I looked up into Bucky’s eyes and saw pain. He was truly hurt over this and it made a warmness spread across my body. _He does care,_ I told myself. _Jase was right. _I shook my head to Bucky’s words. “I am safe. I feel safest with you.” I bounced up on my feet, reaching for Bucky’s lips. I had to make him believe that.

“Piper,” Bucky mumbled against my lips. I don’t know if it was a plea, a moan or a warning, but it didn’t matter. Our lips were joined together, like two magnets pressing to each other. God, it felt so good and so right. The world around us melted away; it was just us.

Bucky cupped my face with his flesh hand, finding his way into my mouth. I could taste the tequila, fresh on his tongue. His metal hand went to my ass, squeezing and bringing me closer, flush against him.

Both of my hands were now in his hair. Since his haircut, I had the urge to run my fingers through his hair, so I took advantage of it. God, it was so soft and thick. Since Bucky had spent any extra free time to look for the mole, he hadn’t been shaving as regularly. Not going to lie, I was looking forward to kissing him clean shaven, but his stubble felt so good against me.

We separated from each other to catch our breath, allowing a little voice to pop into my head. _You’re in control._ This couldn’t happen, at least until I got everything off my chest. Eagle Eye Bucky sensed my apprehension right away. “What’s wrong?”

He attempted to kiss me again, but I stepped out from his embrace, going over to the counter and beginning to put things away. “We shouldn’t.”

Bucky scoffed. “You say that after a kiss like that?”

“We shouldn’t go further. Until I…” I trailed off. Why couldn’t I bring myself to ask him this question?!

“What’s going on?”

I sighed. “I’m scared.” Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. If I didn’t tell him now, I probably never would. _You’re in control. _I’m_ in control. _“I’m scared to wake up one day and find you gone,” I said just above a whisper. “I can’t go through that again.”

My words visibly affected him, his body tensing. He was silent for a bit, then nodded. Without saying anything, he came over to me, outstretching his right hand to me. I slowly placed my left hand in his, waiting for him to pull me to him. But that didn’t happen.

Instead, he unclasped my bracelet — the one he gave me. “What are you doing?”

He answered by slipping it over his own wrist. It was too small to fully clasp over his wrist, but by that point, I realized this was symbolism. “You’ll always have a way to find me.” I raised an eyebrow, not fully getting it. “I put a tracker in your bracelet.” I was silent and a little bit shocked. But honestly, not the most shocked I’ve been today. But it made sense, how Bucky was able to find me in the warehouse and at the restaurant a couple weeks ago.

I huffed out a breath, a smirk forming on my lips. “Of course you did.” I think I shocked Bucky with my response. It was a little funny, actually. “Give me my bracelet back.”

Bucky did as commanded, gently taking my wrist and securing the band. Once it was fastened, he kissed my wrist before lacing my fingers with his. “I’m never going to do that again. I swear to you.” I believed him. “I found the love of my life and I’m never letting her go again.”

My heart swelled at his admission. Finally, I felt light and free once again. I felt powerful and loved. I felt safe. Whole. “I love you, too.”

I was happily kissing Bucky once again, his strong arms wrapped around me. Like I said, even just a few weeks ago, I never would have seen myself in this scenario. Hell, I would have been pissed at the insinuation of it. But now, I was feeling a sense of calm and peace, which is really weird considering everything that is going on. Everything just felt right.

The next morning, after saying a tearful goodbye to Jason over breakfast, Bucky and I went to work. All morning we had shared looks and smiles between each other — which Jason totally caught on to.

Nothing happened last night, other than kissing. I finished cleaning the kitchen and helped Jason pack while Bucky made some phone calls. By the time he came to bed — yes, in my bed — I was already asleep. Not that anything would have happened…we’re not quite there, _yet_.

At work, we kept it professional. The only touching was Bucky’s hand on my back or arm, helping me to and from the car or ushering me from here to there. We wanted to keep this to ourselves, at least for a little while.

Dad didn’t arrive to work until the afternoon — he spent his morning in the Senate with the President. But when he entered his office, he greeted me, first with a hug, then with a stack of papers. “Since we’re going to be doing more campaigning on the road, we’ll need some extra help. These are the newest batch of interns to hire for the campaign. They’ve already passed background checks. Sergeant Barnes’ team ran some more thorough checks, too.”

There were so many parts of his statement I wanted to question, but the first blaring one: “You want _me_ to hire them?”

“Of course, as my new campaign manager —”

I about fell out of my seat. “Y-your campaign manager?”

“Piper, you’re the only one smart enough to do this job. Hell, your first campaign experience was in the second grade,” Dad laughed. “You’re more than qualified.”

“But Graham —”

“Doesn’t work here anymore. And besides, he was holding you back because he was threatened. I saw it.”

It would be so much work. _I’m in control. _Early (earlier) mornings and late (later) nights. _I’m in control. _A lot of travel. _I’m in control. _Telling people what to do (which was one aspect I wouldn’t mind). It would be a dream for someone in my position. _I’m in control. _But the thought of it made me sick. _I’m in control._

I _am_ in control, I told myself, but this was my father. He needed me. He needed consistency, especially at this stage in the game. He needed someone he could trust; someone who had his best interest in mind. And that was me.

Besides, it would only be for a few months. Then I would be done. I vowed it to myself. _I’m in control._

“When’s my first interview?”


	13. Day 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, this is a short and pretty boring chapter. I'll post another one in the next day or two to make up for it! Thanks for reading!

**Chapter 13 • Bucky | July 30, 9:32 p.m.**

Two days after Piper became Mr. Stewart’s campaign manager, we hit the road and never looked back. I was used to living out of a suitcase, but I could tell this was a struggle for Piper. She was used to a schedule, but this new role was anything but.

In the two-week period we had been on the road, we had hit over 20 cities, from New York City, Columbus to Detroit, Chicago and Indianapolis — and many in between. The focus was on the Midwest until the early part of August, then we would travel to the West Coast and the South in September. I was looking forward to going to Texas; I've never been. Tonight, we were in Baltimore, then would be back in D.C. for a few nights.

For someone who wasn’t in to politics, Piper was doing an amazing job. She crafted “the perfect team,” as her father often said. There were Ben, Aaron and Margaret, who focused on advertising and press; Samantha and Arjun, who took care of polling; and Theodore, Ashton and Laurel, who dabbled between fundraising opportunities, public engagements and rally operations. Apart from Ben and Theodore, they were all in their 20s, anxious to be a part of the campaign. The latter two had a ton of experience, which brought credibility to the campaign, according to Piper.

I just hoped the “traveling super team” would keep Piper from overworking herself. She hadn’t been sleeping much before she hit the road, and it wasn’t looking to be any different on the road.

Unfortunately, the 18-hour work days were keeping me from checking in with Steve and Sam about the photo situation, as well as many other topics I would otherwise have seen through myself. I would get some short updates here and there, but was practically out of the loop. I hate being out of the loop.

I glanced at my watch — noting it was just after 9:30 — when Piper finally wrapped up her focus group session. It was a brilliant idea — after every rally her father spoke at, a group session was held for a few select attendees. She was able to get feedback, as well as focus the team’s strategy. It was already working; poll numbers were going up. (Listen to me, hired for security, but suddenly taking an interest in politics. If my high school government teacher could see me now…)

I hung around in the back of the room, my eyes focused on the last of the group attendees who were saying their goodbyes to Piper. No doubt about it, Piper had this way of making anyone feel comfortable in any situation. It sometimes led to people hanging around longer than I was comfortable with, but I didn’t bring it up. I just kept a close eye.

After the group was gone, Piper started to collect her things. She looked exhausted, but didn’t mutter a word. Once she had her bag packed, I grabbed it from her, slinging it over my shoulder.

“You don’t have to carry it for me,” she urged, but I ignored her.

“You’ve got enough weight on your shoulders,” I answered. “Besides, it matches my shoes.”

She smiled, and much to my shock, kissed my cheek. It was just us in the room, but Piper had been pretty rigid about showing any sort of affection in public. Not that I was complaining.

Half an hour later, we were heading up to the suite, which was the team’s makeshift office. The eight interns shared the suite, while Mr. Stewart, other staffers and his security team had their own suite across the way. Piper’s room was on the floor below. She said it was because she would rather the team bond and work more efficiently off of each other, but I think it’s because she wanted her own space, if only for a few hours. And secretly, I hoped it was because it would allow me to be in the same room with her, in private. Not that anything was happening.

Once we entered the suite, Piper was briefed with feedback from the rally and any news from social media. She gave Laurel the camera from tonight’s focus group to analyze and document. She also put in our dinner order — a chicken salad for her, a steak for me. It would be in our quarters in twenty minutes.

While Piper was talking to the group about what needed to be done before tomorrow’s afternoon rally, I pulled out my phone to check for any messages. Nothing. I thought about texting Steve for an update, but decided against it. Besides, we would be back in D.C. tomorrow night.

As we made our way down to our room, Piper was on her phone….with Laurel. She just saw her? I opened the door to the room, wordlessly telling Piper to wait in the entry way until I was sure the room was secure. She continued to talk to Laurel, oblivious to my sweep of the room, only stopping when our food arrived. I thought Piper would join me at our small kitchenette table, but she went over to the desk in the corner of the living room area, turning on her laptop.

“Now what are you doing?” I asked.

“I just need to send some of my thoughts to Laurel.”

Instead of responding, I got up from my chair and went over to her. I grabbed her plate full of salad and gripped on to the computer chair, easily sliding it back to where I was just sitting. “You can take a break.”

“Laurel needs —”

“You just talked to her and told her your thoughts. Besides, she’s a smart girl. She can figure it out herself.”

I set the plate down in front of her, her eyes formed in a glare. I know she hates to be told what to do, but Piper wasn’t taking care of herself. And I think she realized my point. “I guess you’re right.”

“You’ve been working hard for weeks — just take fifteen minutes to eat.”

She took her first few bites in silence, her cheeks puffed out like a little squirrel. She barely eats breakfast and hasn’t been eating much for lunch lately. This was probably her only true meal of the day.

“I can’t wait to be home tomorrow,” she mumbled between bites. “I don’t sleep well in strange places.”

It doesn’t bother me, but it’s clear to see living place to place doesn’t appeal to Piper. She tosses and turns quite a bit in her sleep, sometimes even kicking me. I have a nice bruise forming on my right shin from the other night.

“But it helps that you’re here with me,” she added, with a smile.

We continued with our meal, talking about our brief time in Baltimore. Then Piper brought up “Hairspray,” which I had never seen; that’s how we suddenly ended up in front of her laptop on Netflix, watching the John Travolta version of Hairspray. I’m not a big musical fan, but as long as it kept Piper from working late into the night, I didn’t care.

We were almost to the end of the movie — the part where Tracy Turnblad sneaks into the studio via a large can of hairspray — when I noticed Piper was asleep, tucked under my arm. I shut off the movie and effortlessly picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom. I attempted to help her change into pajamas, which she gave up on after struggling to get a plain t-shirt on. It’s fine…I’m strong enough to not think of her next to me, only in a t-shirt and underwear. I hope.

I brushed my teeth and changed into pajama pants, killing the light before carefully getting into bed. Once I covered myself in the sheet and comforter, a sleepy Piper settled into me, sliding her hand to my chest. “I love you,” she mumbled.

I would never get tired of hearing that phrase, no matter how it was delivered. I kissed her forehead and pulled her closer to me. “I love you, too.”


	14. Day 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun with this one - as well as the next couple chapters. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 14 • Bucky | July 31, 6:32 p.m.**

It was an early start to the day, but by the evening we were finally back in D.C. Of course, I was ready to go home and crash, but we had to be to head back to the White House and “decompress.” I had my fill of politics, so I waited outside the office. I busied myself with watching some campaign workers mill around, totally unaffected by my presence. Even on the road, no one really seemed to mind my being there; I just blended in with the other Secret Service agents. Perfect.

My people watching was interrupted with a phone call from Steve. “Any news?” I answered.

“We may have something on the photo,” he supplied.

My stomach did a flip. Excitement. Finally. Some progress was happening. “Well?”

“Not over the phone. Stop by HQ.”

“I’m on my way.”

We hung up and I put my phone back in my pocket. With a spring in my step, I set off, only to stop in my tracks just as quick. _Piper._ I can’t leave her behind. Suppose I could arrange for someone to drop her off at home. But I want to be the one to check the apartment out. I huffed out a breath, walking back to Mr. Stewart’s office. I walked in, finding Piper and her father at his desk, while a couple staffers were milling around.

I joined the two at the desk and kept my voice low. “Sorry to bother, but we have information on the photo leak.”

Mr. Stewart stood up from his seat, hope quickly filling his eyes. Piper, on the hand, looked a bit more apprehensive. “And?” Mr. Stewart said in a hushed, but excited, whisper.

I grimaced. “I have to stop by Avenger Security. They prefer to tell me in person, I guess.” I glanced from Mr. Stewart to Piper. “I can take you home, first. Or come back and get you when I’m done.”

“Can I go with you?” she asked, looking from me to her father. “I mean, it’s me in the photo after all.”

She was right, but a part of me wanted to protect her from the information we were about to find out. Not that she hasn’t seen or heard worse over the past year. “Yeah, of course.”

“We can pick up on this tomorrow,” Mr. Stewart addressed, kissing Piper on the top of her head. “Good luck.” He looked at me. “Both of you.”

We said our goodbyes and quickly made our way to my SUV. “Who do you think it could be?”

“I have no idea,” I gripped the steering wheel, silently swearing at the gate guard for how FUCKING SLOW THESE GATES ARE! Seriously, Stark needs to get in here and upgrade.

In ten minutes, we were driving into Avenger Security’s secured underground parking lot. It’s where we all park our personal vehicles, as well as keep our means of transportation, both ground and air.

Piper’s eyes were wide the whole time, taking in the high tech vehicles, motorcycles, jets and other large toys. “You keep all of this just…under here?”

“It’s secure.”

“I know where I’m coming in case of a zombie outbreak,” she mumbled. 

“You haven’t even seen inside.”

We excited the vehicle and walked a few feet to a glass elevator, revealing itself from a wall. Piper let out a “woah,” causing me to smile. I wanted to pull her to me, but resisted. Damn cameras.

As we ascended, Piper got a view through the glass, her curiosity growing more and more with each floor. I gave her the summary as we passed each one.

“First floor is for the public, second is offices and some conference rooms, third and fourth is research and development. Fifth is a training and gym space. Sixth floor is a sick bay and medical center. Seventh and eighth is housing.”

Piper couldn’t contain her enthusiasm, rattling off about how high tech the building was and how “Super Spy” I was.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.” The elevator stopped at the eighth floor, opening to a long, grey hallway. Instead of getting out, I pressed the “closed” button until it beeped, followed by my four digit code on a nearby key pad.

Eyes wide, Piper watched with fascination as the doors closed once more, taking us up another floor; an unmarked ninth floor.

“W-where are we now?”

I pursed my lips together. “It’s a secure level. It’s not on any blue prints and is undetectable to outsiders. There’s no windows. The walls are military-level soundproof. On the outside it looks like the roof of a regular business building.”

“But it’s not,” she finished for me.

I nodded. “Technically no one else is supposed to know about this, outside of a select few of us.”

“Are you saying I’m a ‘select few?’”

“I guess so,” I smirked. The doors opened to our safe room, as we called it. It’s where we had all of our most confidential meetings, like when we strategized our plan for the fashion show. It’s also where we keep all our Hydra information. When Steve told me to meet here, I knew this wouldn’t be good.

Piper’s fascination with the room was a great distraction. She barely noticed Steve and Sam waiting for us, instead looking at the artifacts all around the room. They were also joined by Natasha and Clint, who also looked less than thrilled of our guest.

“You brought Miss Stewart?” Clint smirked, twirling his stupid drum sticks in his hand. Smug bastard. Does he even play drums?

“She deserves to know what is going on.”

“I agree,” Steve spoke up, giving Clint a look. He then glanced at Piper, a small smile forming on his face when he saw her looking at the first version of his shield in a nearby glass case.

“So what do you have?” I asked, begging the subject to be changed.

“We were able to get an IP address from the photo,” Sam offered. I felt relief run through my chest. Finally, a start.

“So, you have a name?”

“Not really,” Steve started, folding his arms across his chest. “It took us four days just to get that.”

“The number kept changing. But we were able to hold it long enough for a trace,” Natasha offered.

“But it has to be associated somewhere?” I asked, growing more irritated with this game.

“Buck, it came from Shield,” Steve said. Any trace of hope I had was gone. Shield? _Shield? _“We couldn’t link it to any person or department in particular. Just that it came from Shield.”

“Here in the city,” Natasha added as a consolation.

I was getting angry, I could feel it. _Fuck._ Shield is one of the government’s leading agency forespionage, law enforcement, and counter-terrorism. They’re better than the FBI. Fuck, even the FBI leans on them for terrorism attacks and covert operations. If they’re behind this….just what else is going on behind close doors?

“Do they know we know?”

“Stark doesn’t think so,” Natasha continued. “But we need to get in there and drop a bug. To make sure, and to get more intel.”

“It’s why we decided to talk about it here,” Sam said. “We need to take every precaution.”

I sat down at the end of the table. I was getting dizzy trying to keep up with everything.

“Our first thought was to get someone in there, entry level or custodial. But it would take a while,” Sam continued.

“We could storm the place, but that’s not really subtle,” Clint also offered.

“I think I could get us in there.” We all whirled around and looked at Piper, who was suddenly standing a few feet from our table. I totally forgot she was here, as did everyone else by the looks of their faces.

“Can I ask, how?” Natasha said, as nicely as she could, I’m sure.

“Shield has its annual fundraiser gala on the third. They host it every year, before the end of the fiscal year.” She looked to all of us, waiting for a reaction; like we would already have been aware of this. “They raise millions for domestic and foreign aid?”

“And we can just…go?” Natasha asked.

“Well, it’s invite only. My dad and I got an invite. We already RSVP-ed no, but I could change it.”

Everyone, including myself, shouted “YES!” startling poor Piper. She took out her phone and hit a button, waiting for the person on the other end to pick up. While she talked (and kind of flirted) to “Dion,” we quickly formulated a plan.

“I just texted Stark, he also received an invitation,” Natasha said. “He said he accepted and I’ll be his plus one, so that’s two of us.”

“Bucky will obviously be Miss Stewart’s,” Clint added, another smirk forming. “I mean, security and all.” I shot him a glare.

“It’ll just be the three of you,” Sam added. “It’d be too risky sneaking anymore in.”

Right then, Piper re-joined us, a smile on her face. “I’m in. And so are three more of you.”

“You got three more invites?” I asked her, astonished at her bargaining skills.

Piper’s smile fell. “Well, not exactly.” She gulped. “I’m allowed one security detail, so that gets you in. But then I also have a plus one, so that’s open to anyone.” She looked between Steve and Sam.

“The third?” I prodded.

She was now wringing her hands. “Dinah also got an invitation, with a plus one.”

I shot up from my seat. “No, absolutely not.”

“She’s basically a socialite in the city. She’s guaranteed an invite for her and a guest.”

Steve butted in. “It’s another number, Buck.” He then looked at Piper. “That’s great, really. Thank you.”

“You’re a genius,” Sam added.

Piper took the free seat next to me and we all began to formulate a plan. After much deliberation, it was determined that Steve would be Dinah’s date (since he has a the ability to put up with a lot of shit), while Sam would be Piper’s. Sam admitted he wouldn’t be good with this high tech of a mission, so he would serve as Piper’s detail, giving me the chance to sneak away with the team. Besides, a lot of eyes would be on Piper throughout the night; it would be suspicious if her date just up and left. Stark and Natasha would try to find the right time to slip out of the party and activate the bug, since those two are more tech savvy. Clint, as well as a couple other agents, would stay a few blocks from the building for surveillance and back up.

“It’s not going to be a walk in the park, but we can do this,” Steve assured us all at the end of our meeting. “If Shield is truly up to something, we need to stop it. The fate of the country is in our hands.”

“No pressure,” Piper whispered to me. I wrapped my hand around her knee, giving it a squeeze.

What’s one more problem?


	15. Day 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the dress, for reference! :) 
> 
> https://www.lulus.com/products/crushin-it-navy-blue-velvet-maxi-dress/524382.html?utm_source=bing&utm_medium=cpc&utm_content=524382&utm_campaign=PLA_gowns

**Chapter 15 • Piper | Aug. 3, 6:15 p.m.** ****

After our initial planning three days ago, Bucky and his team re-planned the mission half a dozen more times, running through a hundred scenarios. They studied and memorized the schematics of the building, just in case anyone was to get separated. Most names and jobs were also studied, which was amazing to think because there’s nearly 3,000 Shield employees.

Dinah and myself were left out of it all, because they didn’t want us to be rehearsed, according to Steve. Worked for me, because I didn’t have time for it. And honestly, the thought of being a secret spy scared me. This isn’t my world.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked, making me roll my eyes.

“Oh yeah, just another normal night in the life.” I blew out a shaky breath, meeting his eyes in my bathroom mirror. I just finished my hair, trying to buy any extra time possible. “Sorry.”

He just smiled, putting me at ease. “Hey, if you were good at this, I would be worried.”

“I do already know how to fight!”

Now he laughed. “Let’s hope you don’t have to break out those skills.”

I sprayed on hairspray, as well as a spritz of perfume, feeling Bucky’s eyes on me the whole time. I turned out the light and moved to leave, but stopped in front of an unmoving Bucky. “Have I told you how beautiful you look?”

It was my turn to smile. “Not in the last ten minutes.”

He leaned down to kiss me, capturing my lips in his. His hands went to my waist, rubbing the material of my dress. When I had Neiman Marcus bring a few dresses by to try, this was the one that made his eyes go wide — a velvet midnight blue evening gown. It was a simple cut, but had a slit that stopped mid-thigh. I had a pair of my mother’s pearl earrings on and the bracelet Bucky gave me. He offered to disable the tracker, but I told him to leave it on, just for tonight.

We parted from our kiss, Bucky resting his forehead against mine. He was stalling, too. “Sam being my date — this isn’t bugging you, right?”

Bucky hesitated. “No. But this is so weird. It’s just going to be weird seeing you out there mingling, but with him.”

“If it helps, I’ll be picturing you with me.”

“It does.” He kissed me once more before speaking. “But I’m glad it’s Sam and not Steve.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you and Steve would make the perfect looking couple. Then you’d probably realize that’s the guy you should be with.” I was floored with his answer. It was so…painful. I didn’t know what to say. “I’ve lost a few girls to Steve and his good looks.”

“Yeah, he is good looking, but so are you,” I said after awhile. “Besides, I could never be with him.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s not you.” I pulled Bucky to me and kissed him hard. How else could I make him believe just how much he means to me? I know…

I slipped my tongue in his mouth, which he eagerly accepted. His hands were now on my ass, pressing me closer to him. I took it one step further, taking his right hand and putting it on the top of the dress’ slit, urging his hand to do more. He moaned, slipping his hand between my thighs and cupping me. I gasped when I felt his middle finger trace my slit through my underwear; I could feel myself getting wet. His lips were now on my neck, his fingers flirting with the edge of the lace material.

“If we keep going, I’m going to cancel the whole mission and keep us here,” Bucky said against my neck, his hand still on me, teasing.

Before I could respond, Bucky’s phone went off from the other room. It was probably Sam, letting us know he was downstairs. Bucky’s hand slowly retreated and he gave me another kiss. “I’d like to finish this, uh, discussion, later tonight.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know if my date would like that.”

He swatted my butt, but chuckled. We quickly gathered our things — lipstick for me; a gun for Bucky — and made our way downstairs. Hopefully we didn’t look as flustered as we felt.

We must have looked okay, because neither Sam nor Clint — who would be driving us — said anything. Sam was actually in front of the doors to the backseat, looking handsome in a black tux and a black-on-black patterned bow tie. He greeted me with a kiss to my hand.

“You look beautiful,” he proclaimed, rather loudly. “Doesn’t she look beautiful, Bucky?”

I looked from Sam to Bucky, taking note of his slitted eyes. Either Sam knew we were back together and was teasing Bucky, or he didn’t know and just wanted to give his friend crap. Either way, it was comical.

Before Bucky could respond, Clint spoke up. “Everyone looks beautiful. Now can everyone get in the car?”

Bucky pushed Sam aside and helped me into the vehicle, adjusting my dress once I was sitting. I shot him a look saying “really?” He gave a wink and shut the door, taking his seat in front of me.

“Oh! I have something for you,” Sam said, retrieving something from his pocket.

“Safe to say it’s not flowers, huh?”

“Not even close,” he laughed, producing a black box. He opened it, revealing a tiny nude-colored button? I gave him a confused look. “It’s an earpiece.”

I gasped. It was probably like the one Bucky wore sometimes. “My own earpiece?”

Everyone in the car laughed. Sam helped me put it in, saying I could listen to the team work behind the scenes, but wouldn’t be able to communicate. Dinah had a similar one, too. Probably a smart idea for her to not be able to communicate. Just saying.

With the traffic, it took us nearly 45 minutes to get to Shield headquarters. It took us another 15 minutes for Clint to even pull up to the entrance and let us out, there were that many attendees. Our original plan was to rendezvous in the entry way, but given that we were 15 minutes late, we would just enter into the party.

After he got out of the vehicle, Sam raced over to my side, opening my door and offering a hand. Right away, there were flashes from cameras. This event was gaining attention, so more and more press covered the event. I also had a feeling the guest list was leaked, so people were anxious to take my picture.

Thankfully, Sam was right there, guiding me up the path and into the building. And it didn’t hurt knowing Bucky was right behind me, watching my back. We were met at the door by a man in a suit holding a clipboard. “Names?” he asked without looking up.

“Piper Stewart and Sam Wilson,” I said. The man snapped his head up, giving me his full attention.

“Of course! Miss Stewart, we’re so happy to have you,” he stammered. “And your one detail, got it. Right this way.” He stepped aside and ushered us in.

We made our way through the metal detectors, both Sam and I trying to suppress a laugh when Bucky had to show the guards his arm. Given the intensity of the situation we were in, this was a small comical moment. When we finally entered the building, we were taken aback at the transformation of the drab government building. Drapery was hanging from the ceiling, as well as temporary chandeliers and strings of lights. There were large cocktail tables throughout the room, with tables and chairs along the side of the room, all making room for what looked to be a dance floor.

We were too distracted by the unexpected elegance to see Steve and Dinah approach. I gave Dinah a hug, squeezing her hand for support. She was wearing a black floral gown, her hair done up, adorned with a diamond headband. She was still in a cast, but this one was shorter than her last, more for support than correction. It was also black, matching her gown.

“Sounds like this is going to be the event of the year,” Dinah told me. She would know, she goes to a lot of them. “Some reporters from the Post are here, as well as that busybody society reporter, Muriel, from the Times.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t get it, it’s never gotten this much press. You don’t think it’s because of me?”

“It’s probably because of me,” a voice called from behind us. We turned around and I was face to face with Tony Stark. My jaw dropped. Tony Stark — _the_ Tony Stark. My dad had met him a few times, but I never had the pleasure. I had no idea he knew Bucky, let alone was helping us out. “But, maybe like, five percent for you.” He reached out his hand to me and I took it — oh my god, I was holding hands with Tony Stark. “And this is my date, _Natalie_.” He stressed Natasha’s new name to us all.

“Hello,” Dinah took her hand. “I love your dress.”

We bantered back and forth, engaging other couples as they walked in. Somewhere during that, Bucky disappeared, taking a spot along the wall, in the shadows. Tony and Steve went to the bar, getting us all drinks. We stayed behind at a table, taking in the room.

“In a few minutes we’ll split across the room, to not draw attention,” Sam mumbled in a low voice, all of us picking it up in our ear pieces. “Talk to some people, see what we can find out.”

_“There’s more press here than I thought,” _Steve said from the bar, his voice ringing clear through the earpiece. _“We will need to be extra careful.”_

When they returned, I gratefully accepted my glass of wine, trying to pace myself. I scanned the room, my eyes stopping on the familiar face of Hanks. He was in the center of the room, talking to a small crowd that formed around him. He made eye contact with me, giving me a wave. I picked up my drink and slipped my arm through Sam’s. “We’ll take this side of the room.”

We made our way over to the crowd, where Hanks was regaling the crowd with a tale from his latest hunting adventure in Africa. I hated to think of the poor animals he hunted, but I pushed the thoughts from my mind, acting interested. After his story, Hanks focused his attention to me, three of his security guards still flanking him. No fair — how did he get three?

“Piper, darling, you look gorgeous,” he said, kissing my cheek. “Did your father make it?”

I smiled and shook my head. “Another pressing matter at hand,” I said.

“Say, Marianne was cleaning out some old closets the other day and found a bunch of pictures of you, your dad and some of your mother. You should stop by sometime and get them. They belong to you, not us.”

I felt the smile spread to my face. I had tons of photos of my mom, but got a thrill out of the possibility of something new. “Yeah, I will.”

“Feel free to bring, uh —” Hanks motioned to Sam. I mentally slapped myself — how could I not introduce Sam!

“Sorry! Hanks, this is Sam. Sam, Senator Warren Hanks.”

The two men shook hands. “I’ve heard of you, of your security team. Heard you’re pretty good.”

“Thank you, sir. It’s a honor to hear that.”

“Unfortunately you’ve had your hands full with Piper’s _situation. _But I guess you make free time to mingle.”

Hanks was digging for some dirt. We figured this would happen — someone bringing up the subject of my safety. But I didn’t think it would be from Hanks. And I didn’t expect it to be the gossipy kind.

“Sam and I are just friends,” I said, remembering the story we crafted in the ride over here. “He’s done so much for me this past year, so I wanted to thank him. I figured meeting some new contacts would be great networking and a small way I could to pay him back.”

“I’m happy to help,” Sam directed to me. “And I really appreciate this opportunity.”

Hanks looked between the two of us. “Of course. Well, I don’t want to keep you from rubbing elbows.” He slapped Sam’s back and squeezed my shoulder. “Besides, I see Tony Stark over there. I should speak to him about a campaign donation.” Hanks laughed, saying goodbye.

Once he was out of ear shot, I spoke up. “That was…”

“Intense,” Sam finished for me. “But you did great.”

We could hear the mumblings from everyone else’s conversations — Stark talking about new projects and recent vacations, Steve and Dinah talking to someone about…Pookie? Oh, some old, rich lady’s dog. Thrilling.

We were in the middle of speaking to a foreign diplomat from Sweden when we were interrupted by a loud tapping, followed by a booming voice over a microphone. The presentation was starting.

“Good evening, hello, my name is Alexander Pierce, and I am the secretary of Shield,” he smiled for the applause he received. “Thank you for being here tonight, to recognize our work and to support our future.”

I sipped my wine, taking in Mr. Pierce’s speech. While he couldn’t speak in great lengths about the work Shield was doing, he highlighted some areas of work the organization does. Funding for the agency comes from the U.N., as well as some world-wide councils and organizations. And of course, support from “generous donors.”

“We wouldn’t be able to do the ground work without your support,” Mr. Pierce continued. Behind him photos from third world countries were displayed, showing Shield agents at work, putting in wells and playing with children. It was all perfectly PR crafted.

_“I’m taking this opportunity to slip out, try to find a control room,” _Bucky said, almost like he was right behind me._ “Sam —”_

“I’m right here. And I know.”

_“Natasha and I have a private tour lined up with Pierce,” Tony said._

“How much did that cost you?” Sam chuckled.

_“A cool mil. We’ll keep our eyes peeled and let you know if there’s anything of interest,” he shot back._

After Mr. Pierce’s speech, Sam and I joined other couples at a cocktail table, accepting some heavy hors d’oeuvres from a passing waiter. We tried to feign interest, but were keeping tabs on Natasha and Tony, who kept craftily stating where he was and the role of each room. He somehow made it work into normal conversation, I had to give him that.

_“Wow, this center it just beautiful. What a view over the city,_” Stark said. _“I bet you can just about control the entire world from up here.”_ Obviously, we couldn’t hear what Mr. Pierce said on his end, but we easily picked up on Tony’s clues. _“Wow, major satellite power. The heavy hitters are here, no doubt.”_

_“That’s our cue,”_ Steve spoke.

Natasha coughed a few times, making some excuse to leave the room. “There’s armed guards up here. Not to mention, guards to get past just to leave the ballroom.”

Right then, music started playing, coming from a small quartet in the corner of the room. Sam and I watched as people made their way to the dance floor. He looked back at me and smiled, an idea clearly forming in his head.

“We got the distraction.”


	16. Day 37 (still)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to keep you holding your breath for so long!

**Chapter 16 • Piper | Aug. 3, 9:02 p.m.**

“Remind me again how us dancing is the distraction?” I mumbled to Sam, who just spun me in a little twirl right in front of him.

“It puts all eyes on us,” he simply said. “Besides, if you truly are a target in all of this, then we want to make sure all eyes are on _you_.”

_“It’ll keep the guards from catching us sneak into the room,”_ Steve agreed, still camped out at the bar, waiting for the right moment.

“Plus, I get to show off some pretty sweet dance moves,” Sam added, wrapped his arm around my waist. “Dance camp, when I was nine.”

_“Please, someone remind me to make fun of that later,”_ Tony laughed, making me smile.

Sam had a point, all eyes were on us. Even the other couples on the dance floor backed away, watching us sway and move to the music. I glanced over at Steve, who had a wary look on his face. If we wanted him to be able to sneak out and hack Shield, we had to sell this.

“Here goes nothing.”

The quartet started up another piece, a faster, yet poetic song with the violin taking spotlight. I had seen enough episodes of “Dancing with the Stars” to know this was for a Viennese Waltz. I placed my hand in Sam’s following his lead as he swept me across the floor, gracefully guiding me. Thank God the waltz is a few basic steps — if this was a tango we would be screwed.

During a spin, I glanced over to the bar, finding just Dinah. Steve must have been able to slip away. I breathed out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in. We swept across the floor for a handful more bars before anyone spoke through our earpieces.

_“Bug dropped,”_ Tony mumbled. _“Clint you getting anything yet?”_

_“Computers say it will take two minutes, but everything appears to be working.”_

_“Before we celebrate, I think I found something over here, in records,”_ Bucky hurried.

_“On the way,”_ Steve answered._ “I could use one more distraction, though.”_

“Hurry up, song’s almost over,” Sam said, tightening his arm around my waist. “Here goes nothing.”

As the song crescendoed, I was in the air. Well, not literally up in the air, but feet off the ground. Sam held me to his waist and twirled; it felt like I was flying. I couldn’t help the laugh that came out of my mouth as he twirled me around. When the song ended, the room erupted into applause and cheers. All eyes were on us.

Sam and I bowed and thanked the crowd, a blush forming on my cheeks. As we took our second bow, I noticed Steve in the background, dashing across the room.

Dinah came over to us, handing us both glasses of champagne. Other couples went back to the dance floor, but none taking it as serious as we did. “Nice distraction.”

“Who knew you could dance like that,” I told Sam, who just shrugged.

_“Our software is in, but I have to do a hard reboot for us to be able to track,” _Clint’s voice rang in my head. _“Looks like to do that, I’ll have to cut power, which means killing the lights. So if you’re not already gone, get out of there.”_

_“Already ahead of you,” _Tony said.

Before we could respond, the lights flickered, shutting off and then on. Everyone startled, staring at the ceiling.

“Did that do it?” Sam asked, not getting a response. “Hello?”

“Ladies and gentlemen, do not be alarmed,” Mr. Pierce shouted from the stage, sans microphone. “We must have just blown a fuse in all the excitement. The generators are working. Please, go about your evening.”

The quartet once again resumed playing, urging everyone to continue. It was then that I noticed four security guards running out of the main room to elsewhere. Dinah noticed it, too. “Where are they going?”

“Steve, Bucky, can you hear me?” Sam all but shouted. Nothing. “Stark?” Once again, nothing. “Shit.” He took out his phone, but quickly put it back away. “I can’t call them. It could be traced.”

I looked from Dinah to Sam, feeling totally helpless. “What do we do?”

“We go help them,” Dinah whispered, turning to Sam. “Bucky said he was in records? Do you know where that is?”

I could tell Sam was wrestling with himself over what to do. He swore to keep me safe, but also had to help his team. “Come on, this way.”

We weaved in and out of people across the dance floor, trying to make our way across the room. “Slow, slow. We don’t want to look rushed,” Sam coached.

We were almost to the hallway leading to the records room when we were stopped by — for lack of a nicer description — an old, drunk lady. “You were marvelous,” she slurred, addressing only Sam. “I used to own a ballroom dance school and you were perfection!”

Dinah and I looked to each other, unsure of what to do. I looked back at Sam, who had a forced polite smile on his face. He nodded toward the hall, silently telling us, “go ahead. I’m right behind you.”

Dinah and I hurried along, easily making our way to the hall. I glanced around the corner, seeing no one there. “Where’s security?”

Dinah shrugged. “Smoke break?”

We tried a couple doors, all locked. “Shit! I don’t know which door it is.” We could hear some shouting from behind, as well as growing footsteps. “Fuck! They’re coming this way!” I put my hand on one more handle, feeling it turn under my grip. “In here!”

Dinah and I flew in the room, shutting the door behind us and letting out a combined breath. But the relief was short lived when we heard the unmistakeable click of a gun coming off safety. I slowly turned around, seeing a figure in the shadows. The room was dark, with a faint red glow coming from some clocks and various buttons along a display. But I could make out the shape when my eyes adjusted, “Bucky?”

Bucky stepped out, followed by Steve. “What the hell are you two doing in here?” He put his gun back on safety, putting it back in his holster. “Where’s Sam?”

“We saw all the guards go running. And then when we couldn’t reach you, we panicked.”

“Clint must have blown out communications, too,” Steve assumed.

“Whatever you’re doing, hurry, there’s a bunch of guys on the way down here,” Dinah said.

Bucky raced over to a computer, punching a few buttons before pulling out a flash drive. He tucked it into his jacket. “Let’s go.”

The four of us made our way over to the door. Steve opened it first, but just as quickly as he opened it, he closed it. “There’s a dozen men two doors down.”

“Fuck,” Bucky mumbled. “There’s no other way out of here. No vent or anything.”

“I have an idea,” Dinah spoke up.

But before she could tell us, the men were at our door, turning the handle. The door opened, revealing two large men in the doorway, with three more scary guys just behind them. “What are you doing,” they demanded, guns raised.

“Oh my god,” Dinah slurred. “This isn’t Chippendales! You bitch! You said we were going to Chippendales.”

Ah yes, Spring Break shenanigans from three years ago. When we got really drunk in Mexico and had to talk our way out of going to jail. I knew exactly what Dinah was doing. But was it going to work?

“I’m so sorry, she just wandered off!” I addressed the men, who still had their guns drawn, but looked less likely to shoot a drunk. “She just broke up with her boyfriend and needs to get some frustration out. I told her to not bring a date tonight, but well…” I gestured to Steve. “You know how it goes.” I rambled. “Her date was all worried when we couldn’t find her.” I looked over to Steve, who feigned a concerned look. “Last I knew, she was looking for a bathroom.” I’ve always found, no matter who I was talking to, the more personal stuff you bring into it, the more they want you to leave. “You know, that time of the month.”

“That’s enough,” the man on the left said, with a hint of disgust in his voice. “Just leave.”

“Sure thing,” Steve spoke, slipping his arm around Dinah’s waist for “support.” The two made a show of it, Dinah whining while Steve nodded along. I could feel a tightness in my chest — my breath was starting to come in spurts. _Shit, another panic attack._ But just as soon as it started, it subsided, thanks to Bucky and a comforting hand on my back.

We made it down the hall — the guards’ eyes on us the whole way — and finally, back into the main room, joining Sam, Tony and Natasha, who all looked at us with huge eyes. “What happened?” Natasha finally asked.

“We need to leave,” Steve replied. “Stick to the plan. Meet up at HQ, twenty-four hundred.”

Tony and Natasha turned, going into the center of the room. Tony started saying his goodbyes, making a show of his exit, allowing Steve and Dinah to slip out — er, stumble out — unnoticed. Sam, Bucky and I attempted to follow suit, but where stopped about twenty feet from the door.

“Miss Stewart!” a voice called. I turned around to see Alexander Pierce walking toward us. Two of his men were behind him, just as intimidating as the men we interacted with in the records room.

We couldn’t run, it would look really, _really_ bad. So we waited for him to join us. I could feel Sam’s hand tighten on my arm. I glanced at Bucky, seeing the vein in his neck pulse. I extended my hand, removing myself from Sam’s grip. “Mr. Pierce, hello. I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure.”

“I’ve been trying to speak with you all night, but have had a number of _distractions_ in my way,” he said, making my stomach flutter. His stare (and grip) was making me very uncomfortable, but maybe it’s because I’m already on edge? Actually, I’m so far over that edge… “Thank you so much for being here tonight. You originally RSVPed as a no —”

“I originally had another event to attend, but this one was always my preference,” I smoothly delivered. Another story Sam and I crafted. “I’m glad it worked out. I was very moved by your presentation, Mr. Pierce. Thank you for allowing me to be here.” That one was a trick from my dad. Compliment as a way to distract from you.

“Well the honor is all mine,” he looked from me to Sam. “You two put on quite a show.”

“Sometimes the feet have a mind of their own,” Sam offered.

“Ah yes, indeed. I used to be light on my feet once upon a time,” he smirked. “Well, we certainly won’t be able to top this year’s event.” He then looked to Bucky and studied him, his gaze intense and deep. But Bucky held it. “Well, I just wanted to thank you so much for your support. If you — or your father — ever need anything, please, let me know.”

“We certainly will, thank you.”

We made our way outside and I relished the way the night air felt on my skin. I hadn’t realized how warm I had gotten. “You did great,” Bucky mumbled to me.

I wanted him to pull me to him and hold me tight; bury me in this mound of safety, but I couldn’t. There were still photographers out along the entry way, snapping pictures. We still had to sell the lie. And for some weird reason, I could still feel Alexander Pierce’s eyes boring into me, burning my skin.


	17. Day 38

**Chapter 17 • Bucky | Aug. 4, 8:23 a.m.**

I went to HQ for our meet up alone. Piper didn’t need to be subjected to our intense post-mission debriefings, or hear about our next steps. Call it naivety, but I want to keep her as carefree as possible. If that’s even possible anymore.

When I left the apartment shortly before midnight, Piper and Dinah were opening a bottle of wine and making popcorn. Because that’s what every secret agent has as a post-mission snack. I left them under the surveillance of a Secret Service agent and one of our guys — Drax. If any threat came knocking, he would definitely knock back.

When I got back to the apartment just after 3 a.m., I found two empty bottles of wine on the counter, the TV left on and Piper in bed. All I wanted to do was get the dried stress sweat off me and join her in bed. But I couldn’t, once I saw the mound next to her that was Dinah. Whatever. It’s clear the two needed each other right now. And while I’m not a fan of Dinah, she really came through tonight.

After my shower, I grabbed a blanket from the basket and took my place on the couch. With Jason gone, the spare bedroom was free, but it didn’t really feel like mine now. After being in Piper’s bed, nothing really feels like mine. (And that’s a really fucking weird thing to say.)

I was awoken a few hours later to a clang of bottles. I sat up, finding Dinah cleaning up the kitchen.

“Sorry, I really was trying to be quiet,” she offered, adding the second empty bottle of wine to the recycling.

I ran my hand across my face and through my hair, still sometimes expecting to find it longer and unruly. “Is Piper…?”

“She’s still asleep.” So it was just the two of us. “She could use the sleep.”

“Yeah.”

I got up and joined Dinah in the kitchen, starting the coffee pot. I watched it percolate, it’s hum filling the deafening silence of the room. God, why did it take so long? And why is Dinah still here, looking at me?

“Uh, so, thanks for last night,” I muttered. “You really helped us out of what could have been a really bad situation.”

“There was no way I was dying in that little room, with cheap champagne as my last meal,” she answered. Seriously, a “You’re Welcome” would have sufficed.

We were both in silence once again. Still waiting for that damn coffee.

“This is weird,” she snapped, breaking the silence. “Listen, I know we don’t exactly like each other.” My eyebrows raised. That was an understatement. “I’m not easy to get a long with, so it should come as no surprise that I don’t have many friends. But Piper, she’s like my one true friend. So I always hate who ever she’s with.”

“Dinah, it’s —”

“And then when you did what you _did_, well, then I really fucking hated you,” she continued on. “Like what kind of pathetic coward does that? Some big tough guy, running away like the weasel you are.”

“Do you have a point?” I snapped back, finally meeting her eyes. She narrowed them and clenched her jaw.

“My point, is, that I’ll probably _never_ like you. But, I can tolerate you.”

“Tolerate me?”

“It’s the best I can do,” she nonchalantly shrugged. “For Piper.”

The coffee was finally ready, so I poured my cup and offered Dinah one. She shook her head no, then grabbed the sponge from the sink and began wiping down the counter. “So why the sudden change of heart?” If you can call it that…

Dinah stopped, but kept her head down, not meeting my eyes. “I see how she is with you. I’ve never seen her look at a guy the way she does with you. She constantly worries about you; even when you weren’t together. I caught her Googling you a couple times.” She laughed, then turned serious, looking at me. “And I see how you are with her. You don’t try to control her, like the other guys she’s been with. I mean, you are a little bossy about what to and not to do, but that’s more your job. I get that.” She was rambling now. “What I mean….you don’t talk down to her; you don’t treat her like glass.” She paused again, scanning me over with her ice cold eyes. “I can see that you love her.”

“I do,” I whispered after sometime. Dinah finished wiping down all the counters, throwing the sponge into the sink. She then went over to the door and started to put her shoes on.

“But let me be clear, if you do what you did again, we’re going to have a _serious_ fucking issue.”

“Noted.” It wasn’t like the threat from Jason. I took Dinah deadly serious.

“Can you do me a favor?” Before I could ask what it was, Dinah finished her thought. “Can you get Piper to do something fun? She’s been a real buzzkill since she’s been working for her dad.” I smiled at that, finally agreeing on something. “If she goes into politics, we’re all fucked.”

Dinah left, leaving me in the kitchen with my coffee and the beginnings of an idea. After making a couple phone calls, my idea was now a plan.

I waited another hour before I woke Piper up. I brought in a cup of coffee, sitting it on her nightstand before taking a seat on the edge of her bed, positioning myself in line with her waist. “Pipes, wake up.” I gently shook her.

“Nooo,” she groaned. “Five more minutes.”

“Come on, get up. We’re going to do something fun today.”

“Sleeping is fun,” she mumbled, her eyes starting to open. “You should try it sometime.”

I smiled, brushing her hair out of her face. She had mascara smudged under her eyes, which oddly added an edge of sexiness to her look. “Come on, let’s have a quick breakfast and hit the road.”

“We have to go to work,” she said a little more clear, shielding her eyes with the back of her hand. I could tell she was beginning to think about all the things she had to do at work, so I quickly stopped her.

“Nope, we’re playing hooky today.”

“Hooky?”

“Yep. It’s all settled. We’re getting out of the city and doing something fun.”

That woke her right up. She shot right up, sitting right before me. It actually somewhat startled me. “Like what?”

I kissed her quick on the lips. “You’ll just have to see. Now, get ready.” I got up from the bed and made my way to exit the room, throwing just one clue to her. “We’ll be outside, so dress appropriate. And leave your cell phone here.”

I hadn’t taken three steps out of the room and I could hear her opening and quickly shutting drawers, making me chuckle. When I heard the shower going, I quickly took the opportunity to change out of my pajamas, settling for a pair of jeans and my long sleeve red Henley. The long sleeves would protect me from the sun and keep me somewhat cool.

Piper emerged from her room, wearing a green pair of pants, a grey shirt and caramel colored jacket. She was sans makeup and had damp hair, wispy curls forming around her face. She grabbed a couple granola bars from a cupboard and held them up, showing me that this was all we were having. “Ready!”

I smiled at her eagerness. It’s fine, really. We’ll just grab an early lunch somewhere. I threw on my own jacket — making sure to tuck my gun in its inside pocket — and grabbed my wallet and keys. We were almost fully out the door when I stopped, running back into the spare room, where my suitcase now resided. I snatched my black hat from it, as well as a nondescript green one. I returned to Piper, handing her the cap. “When we get to the car, put this on.”

She warily took it from me, looking it over. “At least it matches.”

“Who says you can’t be fashion forward while going undercover?”

She rolled her eyes and led the way to the elevator. We were soon in the car — hats on — and driving out of the apartment complex, heading south. We passed Avenger Security — which I think made Piper sad — as well as some of Piper’s other popular hangouts. We were out of D.C. and its prestigious suburbs, the traffic lessening along the way. We were almost an hour out of D.C. when I pulled off the highway, parking in front of a mundane three-story building in Nokesville.

“What are we doing here?” Piper asked, a little nervous to get out of the car. “This place looks shady.”

I smirked. “This is where I live.”

“You live here?” Her jaw dropped. “I thought you lived at Avenger Security?”

I shook my head, undoing my seatbelt. “I mean, I could, if I wanted to. But I like having a space of my own, where I can just go to be alone.”

Piper was silent as she got out of the car and followed me to the complex. She took in the noise from the nearby interstate, the peeling grey paint on the walls (both inside and out) and the stairs that looked like they hadn’t been cleaned since the ’80s. And truthfully, they probably hadn’t.

As we walked up to the third floor, some tenants peeked out their doors, quickly slamming them shut. Piper pressed herself closer to me, her hand wrapped around my metal arm. “Not real friendly, huh?”

“Not really. But that’s what sold me on the place…if anyone came looking for me, no one here would rat me out.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. We finally made it to my apartment — 309 — at the very end of the hall. I stuck my key in the lock and threw open the door. “Home sweet home.”

Piper took it all in. I watched as her eyes traveled across the small room that was my living room — its mismatch chairs the TV tray that serves as a side table — and galley kitchen.The sunlight came through the slitted aluminum blinds, making the place seem seedier than it truly was. I could tell Piper was trying to be nice, but it was hard to find a compliment. “It’s….homey.”

I laughed. “No, it’s a shit hole. You don’t have to be nice.” She looked at me with soft eyes. “Like I said, no one would ever find me here. And besides,” I swept my finger across the cheap laminated counter that had half a dozen chips across it. There was a decent layer of dust on my finger. “I’m never here more than a couple days. I keep myself busy with work.”

Piper looked from my finger, to the counter and finally, back to the room. My apartment could fit in her apartment ten times over and she knew it. “Where’s your room?”

I nodded to the door on the left. Well, doorframe actually. There hadn’t been a door on it when I moved here and the Super never got around to adding one. “Oh, did you get it taken away, too?” She said with a smirk. Piper took a few tentative steps and entered my bedroom. She flipped on the light and gasped. “A futon, really?”

I shrugged. “The room isn’t big enough for a regular sized bed.”

She sat down on the futon, bouncing up and down a couple times. “This will probably come as a surprise, but I’ve never been on a futon.”

I smiled at her admission. “Well, then you’ve truly never lived.” I walked over to her, leaning over and wrapping my hands on the two handles under her thighs. She looked up, her green eyes peeking at me from under the brim of her hat. I gave a couple sharp tugs — what can I say, it sticks! — forcing the futon to open flat. Piper went tumbling back with a squeak, sending up a cloud of dust in her wake. Thankfully, she laughed at the action.

She pushed herself up on her arms, looking at me while still laying on the futon. “Aren’t you going to join me?” I mirrored her position, my shoulder pressed against hers. “This futon is so uncomfortable. I’m beginning to see why you don’t sleep a lot.”

“It’s a place to put my head and keep me dry. I’m more fortunate than many others.”

Piper turned on her side, resting her head in her hand and looked down at me. I held her stare. “What?”

“Just….you,” she said before taking off her cap, followed by her kissing me.

I could get used to this. This familiarity and easiness. Even though I was a little over a month into this mission — and three weeks or so into some sort of relationship we had yet to define — I loved every minute spent with Piper. I liked the thought of coming home to her. And oddly, I liked showing her my dumpster fire of a place. It’s like she got to see a part of me no one knows.

Our kiss heated up and soon enough Piper was straddling me, my cap also tossed aside. While we were taking this slow, our interaction from yesterday was weighing heavily on my mind. I could see if was on Piper’s too.

I wanted to live in this moment — Piper over me, her soft lips capturing mine over and over. My hands made a home on the back of her thighs, holding her steady across my hips. As much as I wanted this to continue— and as much as I wanted to flip her over on my shitty futon — we had to stop. Now wasn’t the time. And it certainly wasn’t the place.

“We need to get going,” I mumbled from her barrage of kisses.

“I think someone already is,” she whispered back, her hips ever-so-slightly rolling against mine. My dick twitched, nearly blowing the last of any restraint I had. I had to end this. I rolled us over, pinning Piper with my knees and hands.

“Seriously. We have a schedule to keep.”

I saw the look of hurt flick across her face, “I just thought —”

I cut her off with a searing kiss, not wanting her to give life to any doubts she may have. “I want to. So bad. But not here. Not in this shit hole. On this futon that is on its last leg. You deserve so much better.”

I was rewarded with a small smile from Piper, “then why are we here, Bucky?”

“I need to get a few things.”

I released my hold on Piper and got up from the futon, only to get on the ground beneath it. After a few blind grabs, I found what I was searching for: a long, grey case, housing a dozen hand guns, varying in size, caliber and power. I then went over to my tiny closet with the cheap plastic door hanging from its last hinge, where I pried up a dummy board, procuring two automatic rifles. Everything was just like I left it, except for a few extra dust bunnies.

“Are you sure those aren't the reasons why everybody leaves you alone?” Piper said, her eyes wide in shock and, well, horror.

“Could be.” I took the magazine cartridges out from the rifles and put them in my pockets, then gathered the rest of the guns. “Ready?”

“For the zombie apocalypse?”

I laughed, pushing the futon back into its former position once Piper was up from it. “Come on, let’s go. We have a date.”


	18. Day 38 (still)

**Chapter 18 • Piper | Aug. 4, 12:02 p.m.**

Not gonna lie, when Bucky said we had a “date” I imagined lunch on the river, a walk through a park and an early night in. I did not imagine a quick lunch from a food truck down the road from his apartment — the pizza was good, however. Nor did I imagine us driving to the backwoods of Virginia.

We were a few hours away from the city, the last half hour on a never-ending dirt road. We passed a National Parks Service sign for the Chopawamsic Backcountry Area twenty minutes ago, making me wonder just how big this park was.

“You’re not like…gonna kill me and dump my body in the woods?” I asked Bucky, only getting a laugh in return.“Well that didn’t answer my question.”

We finally came to a stop at a small campground, Camp Chopawamsic, according to the sign. The campground was dead, which was weird since it was August — prime camping season, I figured. We got out from the car, the humidity and heat almost smothering me. It had to be nearing 100 degrees. I was about to take my jacket off when Bucky stopped me.

“You’re going to want to leave that on. At least until we’re through with our hike.”

I begrudgingly put my arm back through the sleeve, shutting my door. I watched as Bucky took out a backpack from the trunk, adding some handguns to it. He then attached his rifles to it with some straps. I looked around us, making sure no one was going to run away in terror. Seriously, he looked like he was going to war. Or to end an apocalypse I didn’t know we were under.

“Aren’t you worried someone will see…us?” I asked as we walked away from our vehicle and into the woods.

“This campsite and surrounding area is closed right now,” Bucky answered. “I know the guy who runs the park. He said we’re fine.”

We walked for about fifteen minutes, following a path along a small lake. Thankfully, we were covered by the shade from the large maple trees, so it didn’t seem so hot. As Bucky led me along the path, he slipped his hand in mine, continuing his story about the first time he was here. I smiled at the simple act. Suddenly we were on a run-of-the-mill date. Minus all the guns on Bucky’s back.

We stopped talking when we came to a clearing, where a man was setting up some targets. I took in the rest of the scene — a large, metal table set up a distance away from the targets.

“Dum Dum!” Bucky called out, greeting the man with a hug. They embraced and were soon in a fit of laughter. I stayed behind a few paces, letting them have their moment. Soon enough, Bucky was reaching out for me, once again taking my hand in his. “This is my girlfriend, Piper.” My stomach fluttered at “girlfriend.”

He shook my hand, greeting me. “Dum Dum is your —?”

“A nick name, given to me a couple guys from our unit. Timothy Dugan is the name my mother gave me,” he said, a slight Boston accent peeking through his words.

I made a mental note to later ask Bucky how “Dum Dum” came to be. The two men quickly reconnected while I took in the scene. There were multiple targets set up various feet away from the table. There was even a line of tin cans on a nearby hay bale. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together: we were shooting some guns today.

My attention was drawn back to Bucky, who was finishing up his conversation with another manly hug.“Let me know when you’re finished. I’ll clean up!” Once he was gone, Bucky and I made our way to the table, allowing Bucky to set his pack down and reveal his cache of guns.

“Question. If you or the Secret Service are always around, why do _I_ need to worry about shooting a gun?”

Bucky looked at me like I had two heads. “Don’t you want to know how they work?”

I shrugged. Honestly, not really. “Can’t I just wear a bulletproof vest like you?”

Bucky shook his head. “They’re not really bulletproof. They’re bullet _resistant_. Nothing is truly bulletproof,” he said. “In an extremely small percentage of cases, a bullet can get through a vest that’s been rated to stop them, like if it had a serrated edge or something.”

I had to cut him off. He was starting to ramble. “Alright, got it. You’re not Superman.”

“Besides, I — or the other agents — might not always be there.”

Bucky went back to the nerd side, turning to the laid out guns. He rattled off their names and calibers, but my brain struggled to keep up. Even though we were in the middle of nowhere, I kept looking over my shoulder, waiting for someone to appear and arrest us. A silly notion, really.

“Which one do you want to shoot?” Bucky asked, breaking me from thoughts. I hadn’t heard what all my options were, so I just did a quick scan of the table.

“Uh — this one.” I picked up a dark grey handgun, smiling at Bucky. “Winner, winner.”

“Good choice, a Sig Sauer.” Bucky took it from me, opening it and talking in great detail — and I mean, great detail — about the gun. From how to load the chamber, how it fires the bullets — he went on, for what felt like half an hour. But as he went on, I smiled at him; his passion was infectious.

Bucky then picked up his own black gun, his trusty Glock. Thankfully, he didn’t talk about it in great detail. “Glocks are a little more efficient and accurate, but Sigs are good. That’s what a lot of the Secret Service agents use.”

“Great, I’ll sign up after this.”

After putting on our eye and ear protection, Bucky loaded our guns, but kept the safety on. He then took my right hand, forming it around the gun. My left automatically wrapped around the other end. Okay…we’re doing this.

“Position your grip here,” he wrapped his hand around mine, adjusting my thumb and index finger. “Wrap your fingers and thumb around the grip, like so…” I snuck a peak at him, a smile forming across my lips. The intense look on his face was doing something to me. “Now your finger can easily reach the trigger. But don’t touch it yet.”

Bucky’s focus then shifted to my stance. He coached me through how to stand - my feet shoulder width apart. He tapped my feet with his heavy boots, showing me exactly how to position them. It wasn’t the most comfortable position. “You’re telling me all the Secret Service agents stand this way when called into action?”

“How you stand will help,” Bucky assured me. His hand was then on my hips, a full smile now appearing on my face. “It’s a bit more comfortable if you stand this way.” It may have been true, but I doubt keeping hands on my hips was protocol. But I wasn’t complaining.

“You’re ready,” Bucky said before switching on my headphones, which would help block the sound, and taking my gun off safety. I glanced to him out of the corner of my eye, noting how he was running his eyes down my body. _Yeah, I see you there, buddy._

I tightened the grip on my gun and inhaled a deep breath. Being around guns wasn’t new to me. I’ve seen them in holsters on men and women since I was a child. And over the past year, I’ve heard them fired more times than I care for. But I’ve never held one, let alone fired one.

I lined up the gun to the target, using both my eyes like Bucky instructed. After finding the trigger, my finger took its position, squeezing. Even though it wasn’t as forceful as some of the other gun options, my hand still jerked when the bullet left the chamber. It all happened so quickly — the bullet leaving the chamber, soaring through the air and making its mark against the target. It was a ways from the center of the paper; a hare from being just outside of the total circle. But it still counted.

Bucky let out an exclamation of joy, celebrating my bullet hitting the target. He urged me to continue, repositioning my hands in their stance. Two, three, four…eight times total. Once the magazine was empty, Bucky took the gun from me, putting the safety on before setting it down. We went to collect my target, my smile returning to my face when I saw eight holes on the paper.

“It looks like Swiss cheese,” I laughed, taking it into my hands.

“Not bad for a first timer,” Bucky added.

I shot him a look. “One of these days, I’m going to save you.” His smile faltered a little, but went back to the way it was. It was a quick action, but I caught it.

We went back to the table, with Bucky taking his turn against his target. I studied him as he went through the same procedure as me, but quicker. I’d seen him hold his guns, but without the threat of imminent danger, I could really study him: the way his muscle tensed in all the right spots, how his eyes narrowed, fixing their gaze on the target. It was hot. Suddenly our make out session from earlier was now in the forefront of my mind.

Bucky’s gun went off in quick succession, with every bullet hitting center. Seriously. “Well now you’re just showing off,” I teased.

We spent the next hour trying out different guns, from all different angles. I found a rhythm with my gun, and Bucky even had me try his Glock. I hated his “baby,” a Barrett gun, which he used when he was a sniper for the Army. It was loud, forceful and incredibly intimidating. I much rather preferred watching Bucky handle it. (And let me tell you, I really, really enjoyed that part.)

“I never would have pictured this as our first ‘technical’ date, but I enjoyed it,” I said as Bucky packed up his guns, and what was left of ammunition. I attempted to help, but it was just quicker if he did it. “It was a great distraction from everything going on. Thanks.”

Bucky pulled me to him, kissing my capped head and wrapping his arms around me. We had shed our jackets half an hour ago, the sun’s rays warming us up nicely. Both of us were sticky with a thin layer of sweat, but the contact was nice.

“I can’t remember the last date I went on. Sam said this would be awful, so I’m glad he was wrong.” We both laughed. “I guess…I want you to feel comfortable and empowered. With all that’s happened….I don’t want you to be afraid. Of anything.”

I looked up at him, his eyes showing a lot of emotion. I pushed up on my tiptoes and kissed him, my lips tasting like salt when I pulled away. “Take me home?”

Bucky took my hand in his, placing a kiss on the back of it. “Of course.”


End file.
